


The Pool

by ReallyEleanor



Category: The Oregon Files - Clive Cussler
Genre: Action & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 03:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 38,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyEleanor/pseuds/ReallyEleanor
Summary: Mark Murphy has a girlfriend.  Stacy Donovan has information that will help The Corporation complete a mission.  Is she willing to do everything it takes to make the mission a success?





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_Oregon_  
Problems. Everyone has them. Some simple, some complex. Individuals, couples, businesses, nations. Most problems can be solved by the people involved. Some require government intervention to formulate a solution. Some create larger and even more complex problems if a government gets involved.  
  
For those problems, the solution is a ship, the _Oregon,_ and the Corporation that owns her. Disguised as a rusting, obsolete tramp steamer, she is, in fact, a state-of-the-art floating weapons and intelligence platform. The Corporation has air, land, and sea operational capabilities. Rescue prisoners? Take out a dictator? Stop illegal arms trade? Prevent a global pandemic? Call the _Oregon._ Manned by highly capable, highly trained mercenaries with a conscience, the _Oregon_ will solve your problem. For a price.

**Stacy: Four Years Ago**  
The airline gate agent motioned Stacy Donovan over to the desk. Conspiratorially, she whispered, “There’s one seat left on the next flight out. I’m not giving it to that jerk.” She motioned her head in the direction of an angry man in a business suit.  


“Thank you. I really need to get to this class for my job. I’m a teacher and we’re starting a new program at my school. I need this class for my license.”  
  
When the flight landed and people had deplaned, the gate agent called for the few people waiting to enplane. She handed Stacy a boarding pass. Stacy snuck down the ramp and onto the plane without Angry Man noticing. Row 4, Seat A. This was in first class! She’d even been upgraded! The overhead compartment was open and there was room for her case. She reached up and…  
  
Mark Murphy looked to his left to see who was putting something in the bin above his head. What he saw raised his eyebrows—pleasantly. A woman, curvy, in a form-fitting tank top. It looked like he was about to have a seatmate. Maybe it was a good thing his coworker hadn’t been able to come to the gun conference.  
  
Wow! He was handsome! Stacy thought as she looked at him. Blue eyes, messy dark hair, a nice smile. He stood up so she could get to her seat. Tall and lean with broad shoulders. Maybe getting bumped hadn’t been such a bad thing after all. This conference could be a good time.

**Mark: Three months ago**  
  
Mark sat at the desk in his cabin. He looked at the small open box beside his computer. A distinctive shade of light blue, it held something both terrifying and thrilling. Terrifying because this was a high stakes situation with no guarantee of success: even though he was an experienced field operative who’d been in combat situations there were serious risks. Engineer, designer—weapons expert. Thrilling because he was going to ask Stacy to become his wife. A lifetime together. This was an engagement ring. He loved her so much!  
  
Mark leaned back in the chair, thinking of the last time they were together, just last week. They’d planned seven days together in Los Angeles, then Mark would meet the _Oregon_ off Bermuda for their next assignment. Stacy was on spring break, so she would fly to Los Angeles to meet him. Tiny Gunderson, flying the Corporation’s Gulfstream, would drop him at John Wayne Airport during a fuel stop as they came in from Hawaii. Mark and Stacy were going to visit Disneyland and Universal Studios and Hollywood and Rodeo Drive. IF they got out of the hotel room. He’d had the box in his duffel bag and was going over proposal scenarios in his mind as he stared out the window of the plane at the Pacific Ocean far below.  
  
Their plans had gone to hell when the Corporation’s client moved the Bermuda job up a week. Tiny would be able to give him two hours while they refueled and serviced the plane. Only two hours. He’d have to figure out some proposal scenario he could do immediately. In his hurry to meet Stacy and tell her the bad news, he’d left his damned duffel bag on the plane. At the hotel, Stacy had been sitting on the bed, wearing some sheer lingerie thing and he’d gone hard instantly. Three strides and he was there with her, naked, and all thoughts of the ring fled his mind.  
  
They’d been intimate for over a year. Their first time had been in Amarillo during their visit for his brother’s wedding. As good as that first time was, every time since then had been better. In Los Angeles, the climax was so intense he was rocked to his core. With her orgasm, she’d screamed his name, so intense he saw a few tears leaking through her very satisfied smile.  
  
When they were both able to speak, he’d had to tell her—they only had another hour. Maybe he should have proposed without the ring, but they’d spent the time making love again. Slowly this time, savoring every moment, every touch. Looking into her eyes he felt he’d given her his soul.  
  
Stacy had been so disappointed. She’d tried hard not to break down, but the expression on her face had made him cry, too, as he dressed to leave. He didn’t want to go, but his coworkers needed his specific skills on this mission. He was part of a team and that meant something to him. He and Stacy had talked about this, and she said she understood why he did what he did. She’d never asked him to quit. He’d have to figure out how to balance a life with Stacy and a life on the _Oregon._


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 1: Present Day**  
Juan Cabrillo, Chairman of The Corporation, sat in his conference room on board the _Oregon,_ looking at a picture. Four people, two men and their daughters. It was the only known photograph of their new target, Hans Erlanger. German. Neo Nazi. General criminal. Now drug dealer to Europe and arms dealer to ISIS. His drugs were killing European children, and his weapons were killing American soldiers. Langston Overholt IV, his former CIA partner, had given them a job—take Erlanger and his consortium out of the picture. But how do you develop a plan to take out a target when there was almost NO information about that target available? The man took secretive to a whole new level.  
  
Juan only knew the man had a daughter. And that daughter was dead. They’d found her death certificate.  
  
“Isn’t that Mr. Murphy’s girlfriend?” a voice behind him asked. Maurice, his steward, brought in a tray with a silver coffee service.  
  
“Say what?” Juan asked.  
  
“That looks like Mr. Murphy’s girlfriend.” If anyone on the ship would know, it was Maurice.  
  
“Murph has a girlfriend?” Mark Murphy and Eric Stone, the Corporation’s resident geniuses, were not known for their exploits with women. “Since when?”  
  
“I believe I met her via Skype two weeks ago,” Maurice continued as he set out the coffee pot and assorted accoutrements. Maurice was the _Oregon’s_ biggest gossip. “I dropped off a pack of energy drinks” he grimaced, “for the boys in Mr. Stone’s cabin, and they were speaking to her via Skype. They introduced me. Properly, too. That certainly looks like her.”  
  
Juan hit his comm button. “Stoney, get in here. ASAP.”  
  
Eric Stone was working his shift at the helm on the bridge, just steps away from the conference room. “You know her?” Juan asked, as he pointed to the picture.  
  
“Yeah, that’s Stacy. Stacy Donovan. I don’t know how long Mark’s known her, but he says she’s his girlfriend.”  


Juan looked at the picture and then back at Stoney. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

\---------------

“Murph, who is this girl?” Juan gestured to the picture on the big screen. Linda Ross, Eddie Seng, Franklin ‘Linc’ Lincoln, Raven Malloy, Marion ‘MacD’ Lawless, and Max Hanley were with Juan and Eric, seated around the table when Mark Murphy walked in.  
  
Mark looked a little surprised. He’d seen that picture. Stacy had a copy of it framed and hanging on her living room wall. “That’s Stacy, and her friend Anna. At their high school graduation. And their dads.” He smiled inwardly.  
  
“You know her?” It was more than a question.  
  
“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend.” Mark was proud of her, even if he didn’t say much about her to his coworkers.  
  
“Since when do you have a girlfriend?” Linc laughed. Linc, along with most of the _Oregon’s_ crew, figured Mark and Eric to be total geek nerds with no chance of dating.  
  
“Since none of your business,” Mark answered calmly. His love life was none of their business. “Why do you ask?” He sat down at his usual spot at the table.  
  
“Overholt has just given us a new mission. Erlanger, on the right, is our target. Supposedly seriously bad news arms dealer. This, as far as I can tell, is the only extant picture of him. It’s like he doesn’t exist. No information. Only a couple of vital records. How does your girlfriend know this guy?”

\----------------------------

Her computer rang. That tone meant Mark was calling. Her amazing boyfriend, her precious lover, who worked in the security department of a small shipping company and went all over the world. Wicked smart, handsome, kind, funny, he was everything a girl could ever want. School was out, and he knew it, which was the only reason he’d be calling at this hour. During the school year, she’d be at work now. She logged on. “Hi, Mark!” She smiled, excited and happy to see him. Maybe they’d be able to get together soon.  
  
He looked serious. Oh, no. What was wrong? Mark panned the camera around; now Stacy could see another man with him. “Stacy, this is my boss. Chairman Cabrillo. We need to ask you something.” He paused, significantly, and his voice changed. It was lower and solemn. “It’s about Anna.”  
  
Juan watched the smile leave Stacy’s face. She literally seemed to go from light to dark. “Anna? Why do you want to know about Anna?”  
  
Juan answered. “We need to get in touch with her father. A business transaction.”  
  
Her face showed her distaste. “Business? I really hope you’re not planning to get involved in his business. He’s bad news.” No way would she help with that.  
  
“Um, yes, I’ve heard that,” Juan continued. “What do you know about him? About his business?”  
  
Her eyes were all displeasure now. “If you’re planning to do business with him, I can’t help you.” Mark, her ‘I’m one of the good guys’ boyfriend, was planning something with Anna’s father? Twelve weeks pregnant was not the time to find out Mark wasn’t who he said he was. Her face was a mask of disapproval and disappointment.  
  
“No, Stace. It’s not what you think. We won’t be…helping…him.” Mark realized what Stacy was thinking. “We’re the good guys, remember? Promise.”  
  
“You’re sure?” She trusted Mark, but she didn’t trust his boss.  
  
“Good guys. White hats. I promise.” He was enough of a Texan to use a cowboy reference, even though he was a sailor. Well, he worked on a ship.  
  
Stacy closed her eyes, raised her chin, and clenched her fists. She took a couple of deep breaths. “I know more than I wish I knew, Mr. Cabrillo. But I never talk about it. Never. I don’t know how I can help you.”  
  
“Stacy, we wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important,” Mark put in. He moved his eyes first left and then right without moving his head. She understood what he meant. If he weren’t in a room full of people, he’d use some other, more personal references. “I promise, it’s really, really important.” She had trusted him with many things, so she should trust him now.  
  
It looked to Juan like she was staring into space, no longer seeing them, and she was quiet long enough for him to wonder if their connection was frozen. Finally, she looked back at them and said, “I can tell you everything I know. I don’t know how it will help, but I will tell you. Not here. It has to be somewhere secure, and it has to be in person.” She couldn’t bring anything about this man to her hometown. “I know a lot about him as Anna’s father.”  
  
In person? She might be Mark’s girlfriend, but the Corporation and its activities— especially the ship—were secret. Very secret. All the employees agreed to permanent confidentiality when they signed on. “Stacy, we’ll make arrangements and get back to you.” Juan gestured to Mark to cut the connection.  
  
Stacy looked at a blank screen. Mark never just hung up on her. He always said ‘I love you!’ or at least a quick ‘goodbye.’ What on Earth was going on?

\------------------------

“Where does she live?” Juan asked.  
  
“About an hour and a half east of Denver. She says it isn’t the middle of nowhere, but you can see it from there.” Mark smiled as he remembered the first time she joked about it, standing on the balcony of a hotel suite in Las Vegas, smiling at him, the sun on her hair.  
  
“Denver. Of course.” Juan’s tone was sardonic. She could be farther away, he supposed. At least Denver had a good airport. “And what does she do?”  
  
“She’s a teacher. Now on summer break.” In the past, they’d spent longer times together during the summer.  
  
“Well, she can’t come on the ship. And we’re not in position to get to Denver today,” Max put in. As the president of the corporation, he saw it as his mission to play devil’s advocate. The _Oregon_ was in the Indian Ocean. They were moving around the Horn of Africa to go through the Suez Canal and into the Mediterranean for the mission.  
  
“Do you know, does she have a passport?” Juan asked Mark.  
  
“Yeah. She does.” They’d met in several different countries for vacations together. Good times, and always too short. And she’d gone to school in Europe before she met him.  
  
What was a central location? Juan made a quick decision. “London. Have Tiny pick her up in Denver and bring her to London.” The Corporation had an office—safe house—there. The meeting continued as assignments for preparation were given. Linc would research Erlanger’s house. Eddie would investigate the weapons contact. Linda would follow up on the heroin receiver.

\------------------------

“There’s the plane.” Juan and Mark were in the lounge at Farnborough looking out the window. The Gulfstream landed, and the passenger was getting off with the pilot. Juan watched the interaction between Chuck ‘Tiny’ Gunderson, his fixed-wing expert, and Stacy Donovan. She seemed animated and happy; Tiny was laughing at something she said. She had one bag; they must have left the rest of her luggage on the plane. Brown hair, modest dress, sensible shoes, glasses. It screamed ‘teacher.’ She wasn’t tall, certainly not next to Gunderson. Small, not thin, probably curvy, but hard to tell in that dress. A nice, average, pretty girl. Nothing like the Goth princess he would have expected Murph to date. Hmm… Maybe this was why Murph was wearing something other than his usual ‘Puking Muses’ t-shirt and cargo shorts. But he still had that damned soul patch.  
  
Juan took a moment to study his weapons officer. Tall and lean, Mark was from Amarillo, Texas. Highly gifted with a genius IQ, he’d gone to MIT and earned his doctorate at age 20. An engineer, he’d been recruited by the defense industry and had been designing weapons when Eric Stone recruited him for the Corporation. Murph and Stoney were best friends and shared many of the same interests: video games, science fiction, and pop culture. Where Stoney was buttoned down, Murph was Goth. He listened to acid punk at full volume and boasted of his prowess with a skateboard on the half pipe. Both men were shy around new people, especially women. How had he summoned the courage to ask out this girl?  
  
Tiny and Stacy were quickly through customs, where Murph and Juan were now waiting. There was a spring in her step, and animation in Murph’s manner, but they weren’t running at each other, and there was only one brief kiss. Curiouser and curiouser…

\---------------------

There he was. Mark. How she loved this man! Soon, she could tell him soon. Would he be excited? Would he be disappointed? Upset? Angry? She was happy about the baby, and she hoped he would be, too. It wasn’t planned. They weren’t married and he hadn’t said anything about getting more serious. Anyway, he had a right to know. But this other man was his boss, and the baby was information for a time when they had privacy. He held out his arms and they hugged. One short but passionate kiss. “I missed you,” was all she had time to say.

\---------------------

There she was. Stacy. She was so beautiful. Stacy meant so much to him. He had the ring in his pocket. He was pretty sure she’d say yes, but he was still nervous. Mark loved her and he knew she loved him, but that could have changed. He knew there were men who made a big, public spectacle of their proposals—they were all over the Internet—but Stacy was a very reserved, modest girl. This was for a time when they had privacy. She walked into his arms and they hugged. She felt so good and he wanted to drag out that kiss. “I missed you, too,” was his comeback and then the introductions began.

Max Hanley was waiting at the car. When they were all buckled in, Juan turned from his position as ‘shotgun’ to Stacy and Mark in the back. “Did we get the rest of your luggage?”  
  
“This was all I brought.” She patted the bag in her lap. She hadn’t expected to stay long.  
  
Well, that was a first. A woman who packed light. “What can you tell us about Erlanger?” Juan asked bluntly. They were alone and she had promised to talk to them.  
  
Stacy took a deep breath. She wasn’t comfortable in a car at the airport. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t consider this a very secure location. Mark said we were going to your London office?” Juan nodded. Office, safe house, same thing for the Corporation. “I trust Mark. But I don’t know you, and I’m not telling you anything here, and not until I know more about whatever it is you’re doing.”  
  
“I guess she told you,” Max laughed. Juan shrugged and turned back around. She had spunk, this Stacy Donovan.  
  
Max and Juan made some desultory conversation in the front seat while Stacy and Mark held hands and whispered in the back seat. “Mark, what’s up?”  
  
“I can’t tell you anything yet. It’s a security job. I’ll have to take your phone, too, Sweetheart.”  
  
“I know. Confidentiality. I don’t have a tablet, or anything else.” She got even closer to him and lowered her voice even more. “Will we have time to be alone? Can we stay together?”  
  
“Probably not. The house isn’t big enough, and you’ll be bunking with Linda. Linda Ross, our Vice President. I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled, thinking of the last time they were together. Los Angeles.  
  
Finally, Juan decided it was time to break up the tệte ẚ tệte in the back seat and learn more about his passenger. “Have you been to England before?” was his first question.  
  
Stacy turned to Mark. “Didn’t you tell him anything about me?”  
  
“No.” Mark answered, then looked at Juan. “He didn’t ask.” He hadn’t needed to. Mark knew the Chairman would have had Eric do a deep dive on Stacy.  
  
“I went to high school near Ascot. I’m a St. Mary’s Old Girl.” For the rest of the ride, the four traded get-to-know-you conversation. Where did you go to school, what do you do, where do you live? All the usual questions someone would ask her. Things were highly sanitized on Cabrillo and Hanley’s side, but Stacy seemed satisfied with it. Juan already knew most of Stacy’s information, as he’d investigated her himself, rather than have Stoney do it. He heard no inconsistencies or lies. He still didn’t trust her.  
  
They pulled into an estate—housing development—with rows of identical detached houses. “What’s that number, again?” Max asked.  
  
“1457,” Juan answered. They pulled into a driveway with a single car garage, which opened, and they drove in. “All ashore,” Max joked.  
  
They took a few minutes to settle in, assign bedrooms, and then met in the dining and conference room. The big table was spread for a meeting, not a meal. Maurice came in from the kitchen, with another silver coffee service. “Coffee, Miss Donovan?”  
  
“You must be Maurice.” She pronounced it in the British fashion, ‘Morris.’ “It’s lovely to meet you in person. Do you perhaps have tea? I’d love a proper cup of tea and some digestive biscuits.” She loved coffee, but it didn't go down well right now.  
  
Maurice smiled perceptibly. He enjoyed his job working for Americans, but he did miss preparing a truly British tea service occasionally. “Do you have a preference?”  
  
“Darjeeling or Assam, if you have it.” She smiled. She’d been hoping to meet the British butler since their Skype introduction.  
  
“Very good, Miss.” He left the coffee tray for the gentlemen.  
  
“Maurice, smiling?” Max laughed. “Now I’ve seen everything.”  
  
“I think it was the ‘proper cup of tea.’ He’s picky about his tea.” Juan watched as Maurice came back in with the tea service. More elaborate, more care in the presentation. A flower in a vase. Clearly, Maurice was making a point.  
  
“Darjeeling, Miss.” He placed the tea service near Stacy,  
  
“Oh, Maurice, this is just lovely. Thank you.” She brightened visibly and reached for a cup and saucer. He picked up the teapot and poured for her. She sipped carefully and put one of the plain English cookies on her plate.  
  
Juan raised an eyebrow. Another smile from his unflappable chief steward?  
  
“Very good, Miss.” Maurice inclined his head in recognition of the compliment. “Might I inquire as to your preference for breakfast?”  
  
She took another careful sip. “Mark says you make wonderful cinnamon rolls and sticky buns. I love those. But only if it’s not too much trouble.” She had a craving for them, and hoped they’d go down well. The morning sickness was coming on strong now.  
  
“No trouble at all, Miss.” Maurice was really smiling now. “Chairman, please ring if you require anything else.” And with that, he departed back to the kitchen. Chairman? Maurice usually called him ‘Captain.’ Of course, that was on the _Oregon,_ when the ship was underway. Now they were ashore, and Maurice was nothing if not meticulously mannered.  
  
Juan put down his coffee cup. He turned to face Stacy and gave her a very direct look. “Now, let’s get down to business.” It was time. “Stacy, what do you know about Hans Erlanger?”  
  
Stacy wasn’t going to give up without more assurances they weren’t assisting Erlanger in criminal enterprises. “I have to know—what are you planning to do with the information?”  
  
Juan was exasperated and banged his palm on the table. “Enough stalling. We need to know. That’s all you need to know.”  
  
Stacy sighed and shook her head. These men didn’t know her and didn’t trust her. They trusted Mark. She trusted Mark. At her glance, he nodded. She’d cooperate. It was time to go all in. “Chairman, I live in a very small town that’s not on a main highway. Don’t blink or you’ll miss it. I know everyone who lives there. The county sheriff is my next-door neighbor. The nearest grocery store is in another small town, 30 miles away. That’s how isolated we are. I almost never go to Denver, and I always take a friend and stay in very public places. I try to make sure someone always knows where I am and when I’m supposed to be home. I keep a low profile. None of this is by accident. Hans Erlanger murdered his daughter and other members of his family. If he decides to kill me, I want to see him coming.”  
  
“He killed his daughter?” Max asked. How could a parent kill his child? “His own daughter?”  
  
Stacy looked between Juan and Max. “And his wife, brother, sister-in-law and mother.” She sighed. “I need to start with some backstory. It will make more sense.”  
  
More delay, Juan thought, but he’d give her a few more minutes. Stacy pulled a photo album from her bag and removed a photo.  
  
“This is a picture of Anastasia Erlanger and Anastasia Donovan—me—from first grade.” She handed the photo to Juan. Max looked over the Chairman’s shoulder.  
  
“You could be twins!” Max exclaimed. The little girls were almost identical.  
  
“We looked alike, yes: hair, eyes, height, size. We also had the same name, Anastasia Victoria, and the same birthdate. We were both in boarding school because we couldn’t live at home. The nuns couldn’t tell us apart when we were in our school uniforms. We ended up as roommates because no one else would room with Anna—she was a sleepwalker, except when she roomed with me. Our mothers were both dead, but somehow I coped better. She was Anna and I was Stacy. Together, we were Anastasia.”  
  
Two people to make one person? Juan stored that admission away for future thought.  
  
She took out some more photos and handed them over. “We went to school together from first grade through our junior year of college. We were never apart for longer than a couple of weeks. College—we both got into Smith. Most girls at Smith go abroad junior year, but we didn’t really see the point. We’d lived in Europe for years. Every Thursday, without fail, Anna and I would meet in the dining hall after my last class and have dinner. Yes, we were roommates, but we did have our own lives. You could see we no longer looked so much alike by then. She was a business major; I was training to be a teacher. She loved tennis; I run. One February Thursday evening, she didn’t show up. She’d never missed a dinner. Never. So, I went looking for her.”  
  
Stacy paused to take a sip of her tea and a nibble on a digestive. Juan thought he saw her hand shaking. “She hadn’t left our room. Anna was lying on my bed, with an open, empty bottle of prescription antidepressants on the night table.” Her voice was very low. “She was dead.”  
  
“College students commit suicide. It’s tragic, but not unheard of.” Max sounded sympathetic but looked skeptical. How was this murder?  
  
“It looked like suicide, yes. But it was murder. She left clues.” Another sip and nibble. “Her father sent his…henchman to kill her. Wolfgang Gerhard.” Juan looked skeptical now as well, so she continued. “Yes, murdered. Anna wasn’t depressed. And neither of us took these pills. Ever. We never slept in or sat on each other’s bed. It was part of her therapy for the sleepwalking. Not pills. She was lying dead in my bed.” She paused a little before she went on. “We were the same height, same size, but never wore each other’s clothes. She was wearing one of my shirts, one she hated. It was the color. Her shoes weren’t tied. Because they weren’t her shoes, they were mine. And she was wearing my necklace.” Stacy pointed to her earrings. “My grandparents gave me a matching necklace with these earrings for my high school graduation. Anna NEVER wore them, they were mine. I never wore her jewelry. I never got my necklace back. The funeral home gave it to her father. It was like someone had dressed her, someone who didn’t know her, or when she dressed, she was sending clues.”  
  
“All circumstantial.” Hanley put in. Not hard evidence. “The death certificate said suicide. I saw it.” That was an admission he maybe shouldn’t have made.  
  
Stacy noticed and gave him a look. Even after they checked her out they still didn’t trust her. “The police saw the pills and ordered no blood tests, no investigation, nothing. Erlanger has this guy that works for him. I called him the henchman. Wolfgang Gerhard. Tall, blonde, looks like Dolph Lundgren. He was on campus that day. I saw him. He knew I saw him. That’s why I live in the back of beyond. I know what he did.” She took a deep breath. “Anna had a boyfriend. A really nice guy from Amherst. They were about to take the next step, sex, and Anna wrote to her father to tell him she’d met a great guy and was going to tell her boyfriend about their relationship. Her relationship with her father.”  
  
“Relationship?” Juan asked. Parents and children had a relationship. So what?  
  
“Incest. Erlanger raped his daughter. For years. He had physically injured her with it, so he sent her to school to keep from killing her with the sex. Her injury was why she was going to tell her boyfriend about it.” Stacy closed her eyes against the painful memories. "He’s a pedophile who likes little girls. LITTLE little girls. Once your body starts to change, he loses interest. He starts once they are physically large enough, with toddlers,” she shuddered involuntarily. “It ends at about age eight. Then the girls are old enough to…object.”  
  
“Pedophile. That makes a lot of sense.” Some facts clicked for Juan. The secrecy for starters. Why there were no pictures and no known associates. Interpol had never been able to infiltrate his upper network.  
  
“It’s disgusting,” Max added. “Incest. Pedophilia. Disgusting.”  
  
“I want to know why you need to know what I know. I have literally trusted you with my life. What are you planning to do? If you’re going into business with him, I’m fucked.” Mark looked surprised she’d used that word. Stacy didn’t swear. She’d told him teachers got fired for swearing around the students, so she didn’t swear. “I would be a great bargaining chip, and I wouldn’t survive an encounter with him.”  
  
“Who’d believe all this, though?” Max asked. Erlanger had legitimate business ties in the community and a death certificate for his daughter that didn’t fit Stacy’s story.  
  
“That isn’t all I know.” She wasn’t finished and was miffed that they assumed she was lying.  
  
Juan sat up. “What else?” This was good information, but not particularly useful, and certainly not something she couldn’t have told them over the phone. Hopefully, the rest of it was better intel.  
  
“That’s the problem.” She gestured her impatience with her hands. “I don’t know what you need, so I don’t know what to tell you.”  
  
She’d trusted him, so Juan decided to trust her. To a point. “He’s moving opium out of Afghanistan and selling it as heroin in Europe. He’s using that money to get weapons—stolen from American military bases—that he sells to ISIS. Who use them to kill Americans and other coalition forces. We plan to stop that. Stop him. But we don’t know how to get to him. He almost never leaves his house.”  
  
Juan paused as the four of them heard noises in the front hall. “Remind me not to let you drive again,” a deep voice said.  
  
“It’s not mah fault they drive on the wrong side of the damn road. That ain’t normal,” a Southern accent replied.  


Linc and MacD walked in, Linda Ross and Eric Stone behind them. They all dropped gear and moved around the table. Juan introduced everyone.  
  
“Stacy was just about to tell us how we might get Erlanger out of his house so we can take him out.”  
  
“No. That’s not what you want to do.” Stacy didn’t agree with Juan’s choice, but she was interrupted.  
  
“Well, there’s no way to get in,” Linc replied. He’d done the research with Eric Stone. “The place is a fortress. There are guards, they aren’t the problem. I just don’t know if we could breach in time. Steel doors, window covers, the whole enchilada. We’d need some serious firepower to get in.”  
  
Before Stacy could answer, the group started discussing the information Linc had thrown out. They were talking over each other, proposing weapons and strategies and how to get equipment into Austria. Juan listened, then watched as Stacy pulled a key on a piece of string from around her neck. She raised her voice in the way teachers do. “Why don’t you just go in through the kitchen door?” She slid the key across the table to Juan. “That’s the key to the kitchen door, and the code for the security system on it. Deactivate the system and unlock all the doors.”  
  
Crickets. Total silence. Then Juan started to laugh. “The kitchen door. You have a key to the house and the code to disarm the security system.” He looked from her to the key and back. “How the hell did you get this?”  
  
“It was Anna’s. They never asked for it back.” It would never have occurred to Erlanger that Anna had a house key.  
  
“Ten years and they won’t have changed the code?” Juan asked. That was poor security. And no upgrade? Not how he’d run things.  
  
“The number is too significant. Something to do with his Nazi grandfather. He’d never change it.” Stacy didn’t know what it stood for, though.  
  
“Okay,” Linc said, “we can get in. But we still have no idea what to expect once we’re in there. There aren’t blueprints. We checked.”  
  
Stacy pulled a folded piece of paper out of her photo album. “How about a floor plan?” she handed that around the table to the Chairman.  
  
“And this? How did you get this?” Max asked. How did she get it if she was afraid of Erlanger? Was it made up?  
  
“I drew it from memory,” Stacy answered, trying not to show her exasperation. Mark said he worked with highly skilled people. They couldn’t figure it out?  
  
“You’ve been in the house. Of course.” A statement, not a question. Juan was beginning to enjoy this interaction. There was more to Stacy than he’d thought.  
  
“Once we started puberty, about twelve, Anna thought I could visit her house safely—instead of always going to mine—over school holidays. She was right. Herr Erlanger ignored us. We had free reign of the main house and the garage. He has a vault, I saw it; I think I could get it open, and there’s a basement. I have no idea what’s in there. The one place we couldn’t go. Probably his Nazi shrine.”  
  
“One other thing,” Stacy added. “He only does business with people he knows. If he doesn’t know you, and I’m guessing he doesn’t know you, you aren’t getting in. Someone will have to recommend you to him.”  
  
“So now we have a different problem. We need someone to recommend us.” Juan looked at Stacy. “I don’t suppose you have his Rolodex in that album of yours?”  
  
Stacy gave him a funny look. She reached in her album again. Another, smaller, piece of paper. “These are the names of the people we heard him dealing with. His business associates. It’s over ten years old, but… You’ll have to work off just names.” It wasn’t a long list, but it was a start. Juan recognized some of them. The cream of Europe’s criminal class.  
  
“How the fuck did you get this?” Linc was astounded. Where had Mark found this girl?  
  
“Language!” Stacy admonished him like he was one of her students. Linda Ross laughed. “We listened. We read papers on his desk. I remembered.”  
  
Juan leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Miss Donovan. Do you have anything else that might be of assistance in this operation?” He was impressed and amused. Mark was going to have his hands full with this one.  
  
“The local law enforcement is paid off. If they get involved, there will be trouble. The last time I was there, the local police chief came over for dinner. There’s probably blackmail involved—sex with Erlanger’s little girls.” She shuddered. “He—the police chief—wouldn’t be the only one, either. There were other visitors I didn’t know.”  
  
Linda hadn’t heard the first part of Stacy’s briefing. “He has prostitutes? Are they armed? Will they turn?” She had missed the ‘little girls’ part.  
  
Before Juan could answer, Stacy did. “Not prostitutes. He rapes little girls. Child sex slaves. He’s a pedophile.”  
  
Again, silence at the table. “You’re really sure about that?” Max asked. Why was he so skeptical? Stacy had had enough of him not believing her story.  
  
Stacy stared him down coldly. “Anna always kept me away from her house. Deflected my questions. I finally asked her flat out. Why didn’t she want me to go to her house? She described his penis and what it felt like when he violated her. She told me how she was injured. We were twelve.” There was finality and hatred in her voice.  
  
“Jesus,” MacD shuddered. That was about the age of his daughter. And everyone at the table knew what had happened to the men who’d kidnapped her a few years ago.  
  
“Last thing.” They all looked at her. Her eyes were even colder. “He has a couple who keep house, do the gardening, for him. Herr and Frau Schmidt. Kill them. No mercy. Kill them on sight. Do not hesitate and do not think they will surrender.”  
  
Juan ran his operations to his personal moral code, and that meant non-lethal methods if possible. “We try to limit casualties. Collateral damage.” “Isn’t that a little extreme?” Linc asked right on top of Juan’s words. Extreme. Not to mention bloodthirsty.  
  
“No.” Stacy stared them down. “The Schmidts are evil. Pure evil. THEY go to orphanages in eastern European countries and ‘adopt’ the girls he keeps. They…prepare…them. When the girls outlive their usefulness, THEY bury the bodies in the back yard. Anna had horrible stories.” She shuddered. “They will be heavily armed, and they know how to use the weapons. DO NOT turn your back on them.”  
  
Stacy looked at Juan. “I’d like you to promise me you’ll kill them. I would do it myself, but I suspect you won’t let me go along.”  
  
He just looked at her. Again, he was surprised by Mark’s girlfriend. “You would be correct,” Juan stated in answer. No fucking way was she going any farther than London. He looked around the table at his team. “Let’s get started on a plan, people.”


	3. Chapter 3

Part 2  
Stacy sat with Mark and Eric. She longed to be in his arms, and from the looks he was giving her, the feeling was mutual. But they couldn’t. It wasn’t appropriate while they were working, in front of his boss. Mark and Eric were working on identifying people on Erlanger’s list. Something about the list was nagging her. Something she should remember. Stacy got up and looked out the lounge (family room) window at the back garden. A tall fence surrounded the area, separating them from the neighbors. A forlorn set of outdoor furniture sat on the small cement patio. There was a connection in the back of her mind. She just had to sort through all the people she’d met over the years.  
  
Alvares! There was an Alvares-Cuevas on the list. She remembered the summer program in Switzerland, before sixth form, and the girl who was the nemesis of their life at finishing school. Gloria Alvares-Cuevas y Silva. What if this was her father? She walked back up to the table.  
  
“Mark? Do we have any background on this name?” Stacy pointed to Paulino Alvares-Cuevas. “Specifically, his family?”  
  
Mark put his arm around her and pulled her in close. She wrapped her arm around him. No one would object to a quick hug and some closeness. “Alvares? I didn’t check him. Stoney? Did you check this guy?” Mark passed the paper across the table.  
  
Eric looked at the name. “No. Haven’t gotten to him yet.”  
  
Mark moved his hand from her waist to her ass and squeezed. He loved touching her. She rubbed his shoulder.  
  
“May I try?” She was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to be using the computers; Juan didn’t trust her. Such was life in dealing with a security company.  
  
Mark knew he could trust Stacy. He understood she thought she’d taken an enormous personal risk to help them, and she had given them valuable information. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission? There was another laptop on the table, so he put in the password and handed it to her. “Behave yourself.” He kissed her lingeringly and went back to work.  
  
Which school friend would know about Gloria? Sarah, Sarah knew everything, but Sarah was a pathological narcissist. Juliet? No, she wouldn’t be on Facebook. Dating sites, probably, and that wasn’t useful. Libby? Libby had four children now. They consumed her time and social media. Nina! Nina would know and wouldn’t tell anyone. Nina knew everyone. FOMO was a real fear for her, but she never told secrets. Stacy logged into Facebook, and messaged Nina. As she expected, Nina had her phone and answered immediately.

[Stacy: Who was that snotty Spanish bitch at Glion, twelve years ago?]  
  
[Nina: Why would you even think of her? Please tell me you’re not getting together! Who would want to get together with her?]  
  
[Stacy: No. Not at all. Who was her dad? And weren’t they from Rota?]  
  
[Nina: I’m glad I don’t have to question your sanity. Paulino? I think. Alvares-Cuevas. Sevilla, not Rota. Close enough. W.H.Y.?]  
  
[Stacy: Thought I saw her in the news. Wrong person. Gotta go. Thanks!]  
  
[Nina: Stop hiding and come see me.] 

“Mark?” Stacy put a hand on his shoulder. “I think I found something.”  
  
He didn’t look up from his inquiries. She loved it when that focus was turned on her. “What, Stace?” He sounded like he wasn’t really paying attention.  
  
“I found your way in.” Her voice was quiet, but she was serious.  
  
That brought Mark’s head up from his laptop. What the fuck? They’d been working for hours to find some connection on Stacy’s list, someone who could get in with Erlanger’s crowd. She was on the computer for five minutes and had a hit? Stoney heard the conversation and looked at Stacy. He voiced the sentiment, “What the fuck? Murph, we weren’t supposed to…”  
  
“I know. But she found something.” Maybe. He hoped. He’d need to beg forgiveness.  
  
She turned her laptop. “Alvares-Cuevas. I went to school with his daughter.”  
  
“Murph, what happened to our security protocols?” Max came up behind them and took a sip of his coffee. He’d given Mark the limits for Stacy’s participation himself and computer use wasn’t part of it.  
  
“Mr. Hanley, have you heard of Donovan-Petrie?” She was familiar with confidentiality and understood why they didn’t trust her but...  
  
“Yeah. Security firm in New York. They do a lot of work with high-end clients in the Northeast/DC area.” They weren’t competition; Donovan-Petrie did mostly personal security for individual clients.  
  
“What’s my last name?” Stacy pointed out the obvious.  
  
And the penny dropped. “You’re Art Donovan’s daughter.” Max made the connection. Maybe she wasn’t as clueless as they’d thought. But he still didn’t trust her.  
  
“Yes. And Helen Petrie, Dr. Helen Petrie, is my stepmother. I literally went all in on this. I meant that. Mark trusts me. If you trust him, you should trust me.” She still had on her serious face.  
  
“So, you checked your FaceSpace. Are you done now?” Max wasn’t known for his social media presence, despite being in charge of Corporation human resources. Dismissive.  
  
Eric groaned. He knew Max Hanley shunned social media. “Yes, I checked my FaceSpace. And I found you a way in.” He was still with the patronizing tone and she didn’t like it.  
  
Juan walked up behind Max. “YOU found a way in?” He was surprised—she wasn’t trained for this work.  
  
“Always the tone of surprise,” Stacy quoted. She was tired of it.  
  
_“Harry Potter,”_ Mark and Eric said at the same time. Stacy was as much of a nerd as they were.  
  
“Lay it out for me,” Juan ordered as he took a seat at the table.  
  
“Paulino Alvares-Cuevas. He’s a wealthy Spanish guy who has his fingers in several legitimate interests in the Seville area. One of those was probably how he knew Erlanger. BUT he has a demanding wife and three spoiled daughters, so it’s conceivable he could use a little extra money. His daughter Gloria was at school with me one summer.” She shook her head at the memories. Gloria dominated everything around her.  
  
“How will this get us in?” Max wondered. Stacy had a school friend. Big deal.  
  
Juan grinned. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” He looked at Stacy, who shrugged. “Lay it out for them.” One of Juan’s best skill sets was operational planning. Maybe Stacy was able to plan, to exploit openings, in much the same way he did.  
  
“Gloria earned the nickname, ‘That Spanish Bitch.’ Loosely translated."  
  
Juan raised his eyebrows, a look of inquiry. He spoke fluent Spanish and wondered what the girls had actually said. Did Stacy speak Spanish? He knew she spoke German and French.  
  
“Maldita puta Española.” Stacy answered. “Everything always had to be the best. The most exclusive designers, the most expensive jewelry, the best of everything. They’re an old Spanish family, so she bragged that she had the highest social connections in our group even though she didn’t. At the rate she spent money, it’s quite possible Alvares-Cuevas is flat broke. And he lives near Rota, Spain. He’s in a physical location to acquire stolen American weapons and sell them to Erlanger. I can introduce you to the Alvares family, but you’ll have to go from there.”  
  
“How would you play it?” Juan asked. Was she thinking along the same lines?  
  
Stacy looked at him over her glasses. Was he still patronizing her? She chose to assume not. “If you could get the family out of the way, you could take his place. Here’s his picture.” Stacy turned the laptop.  
  
Max ‘hmphed’ in amusement as he looked at the laptop. Juan ran his hand down his face. Paulino Alvares-Cuevas had a very similar appearance and body type. It would be easy to impersonate him. And there were ways to take the man out of the picture without hurting him or his family.  
  
“I also know it’s a sore spot that he has three girls, no sons. His wife, and I’ve met her, is a horse-faced battle axe nagging shrew. Do you have someone who could play your mistress? There’s a culture of wealthy men with mistresses all over Europe. They stash their daughters and sons at boarding schools; I knew some of those children. There are girls like me there, for family reasons, but for most, it’s just easier to not deal with your children. Convenience. Get them out of the way.” Her voice quieted. She’d felt sorry for some of those girls.  
  
“Linda!” Juan called.  
  
She walked in from the lounge and he looked at her.  
  
“We’re going to Spain.” He looked back at the table.  
  
“Get the logistics in place, people.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 3**  
“It’s definitely broken.” Max sat heavily on the chair in the library of their safe house. Juan used it as his office when they were here. Max had just returned from the hospital after several hours of waiting. “Linda tripped over a hose at the store and broke her leg.” The young man watering the outside garden section pulled the hose at exactly the wrong moment. “A stupid accident.”  
  
Juan was already in his customary leather club chair, a cigar and a drink at hand. He was staring into the fireplace, watching the flames that warded off the chill of an English June evening. He’d kept up with the events of the shopping trip by phone with Max. Fortunately, they had Linda’s real passport and driver’s license. It was hard to maintain a false identity under pain medication.  
  
“Fuck.” That one word summed up Juan’s mood. They were fucked. A broken leg. With Linda out, they were short one woman for Operation Mistress. Raven, while beautiful, was the wrong age and appearance for Juan’s girlfriend. She was ‘exotic beauty,’ not ‘convent graduate.’ All the other female operatives in the Corporation’s employee register were too old, too worldly, or too far away to meet their timeline. None of them would work, even with Kevin Nixon’s Magic Shop talents.  
  
They’d decided Juan would present Linda as his translator and mother of his future heir. Juan and his mistress would be under scrutiny, possibly even surveillance. That meant a level of intimacy difficult to pull off with facial appliances and makeup. And Linda had been at the outside of their appearance needs—she didn’t look her age—but spoke French and some Spanish. Raven, Julia Huxley, Monica Crabtree, Judy Michaels, Tracy Pilston, and Rhonda Rosselli either didn’t fit the ‘baby mama’ image or speak French, or German, and Spanish.  
  
There was someone else who spoke French, and German, and Spanish, and Italian. And who was young enough and pretty enough. And who wasn’t an operative. Had she ever even held a gun? Would she take orders? Fold under pressure? Turn them over to Erlanger? No training, no experience. They didn’t trust her--she'd looked awfully friendly with Erlanger in that picture. She'd been friends with his daughter for years. In spite of what she said, she was just as likely to turn them over to Erlanger as to help them out. She was an elementary school teacher, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t even think about this. Fuck.  
  
“I’m going to throw this out. It should be thrown out, I’m sure.” Juan swirled his whiskey and watched the ice melt. “Stacy.”  
  
  
“How much of that Scotch have you had?” Max asked, pouring one for himself.  
  
“Not enough. She has everything we need—looks, language, age. And nothing we need—ops experience.” Why was he even considering this?  
  
“Since when do you consider untrained civilians as operatives?”  
  
“We’ve had some success with civilians.” Sometimes, people were drawn into their operations and had given assistance. They’d even recruited a couple of them afterwards.  
  
“Ancillary incidents. Only luck saved our asses.”  
  
“Luck be a lady,” Juan retorted.  
  
“Sinatra. Our whole op is in the toilet and you’re quoting Sinatra.” Max shook his head.  


“Let’s get Murph in here. Let’s see what he thinks.” Juan tilted his head back, slugged the rest of his whiskey, and went looking for his weapons officer.

Mark wasn’t at the table with Stoney hunched over a computer. He wasn’t eating in the kitchen. He wasn’t in his room. That left one place—Stacy’s room. He’d had this discussion with Mark even before they came to London.  
  
Juan knocked lightly on the door to the room Stacy was sharing with Linda. He didn’t see either Stacy or Mark, but the bathroom door was closed. He walked quietly over to the bathroom and put his ear to the door. Yes, they were in there and not much talking was going on. Enough of this!  
  
Juan knocked, loudly. “Mr. Murphy!” he called. He heard a quiet “Shit” from Mark.  
  
Mark looked carefully at Stacy. She was embarrassed—her face was red beyond what it had been from their arousal. The frustration he saw was palpable. Or maybe it was just his frustration, too. Stacy was sitting on the edge of the counter, her back to the mirror. Her shirt and bra were off, and she had ‘beard burn’ on her face and breasts. She had unbuttoned Mark’s shirt and was touching his erection through his unzipped jeans. Mark had put a condom (she knew they didn’t need) next to her by the sink.  
  
Stacy was so upset! She’d pulled Mark into the bathroom to have a quiet conversation and tell him about the baby. At least, it had started that way. They’d had one kiss and the longing had exploded and the next thing she knew the Chairman was knocking on the door. So much for their privacy.  
  
Mark hugged her close. He could feel her crying softly. “Hey! It’s okay,” he whispered to her. “We can talk later.” He kissed her again and pulled away. She hopped off the counter. He tried to button his shirt, but his fingers didn’t want to work. Still crying, she helped him button his shirt. He tucked it back in and zipped up his jeans. Hopefully, after this op, he could get some time off and they could be together.  
  
Mark eased the door open a crack and peeked out. The Chairman wasn’t in the bedroom, so Mark gave Stacy one last kiss and headed for the library. She was still crying.  
  
Stacy was angry. And disappointed and frustrated and every other emotion that fit the situation. She understood that these men didn’t trust her, but did they think she was Mata Hari? How could it affect the mission if she and Mark had an hour alone and made love? Seriously?

Mark walked into the library. He knew what was coming and he knew he deserved it.  
  
“Mr. Murphy.” Juan didn’t ask Mark to sit and his tone was irritated. He expected his team to follow orders. “You were warned about this before we came to London. If you can’t keep your dick in your pants, we can’t have you on this op.”  
  
Mark knew he had violated the Chairman’s strict instructions about this. “Yes, sir. Stacy and I need to talk—privately—and that’s what we started out to do.” He looked down. “I shouldn’t have kissed her. And please don’t take it out on her.”  
  
“That’s why you’re here. We need to talk to you about Stacy. Now, sit down,” Juan gestured at the other chair. “We have a problem.”  
  
“You know Linda is out of the op now,” Max added. “We need someone to be the Chairman’s mistress.”  
  
It took a second, but Mark figured it out. “And you want Stacy to do it. She’d be good at it.” Mark was confident. This could be his opportunity to get Stacy in the Corporation. There weren’t any couples on the ship, and not many in the Corporation overall. He’d like to be the exception.  
  
“Has she ever even held a gun?” Juan was skeptical.  
  
Mark smiled. “She has.” They wouldn’t believe him if he told them. They’d have to see her shoot. “Chairman, you say I’m your resident genius. What you don’t know about Stacy is she’s actually smarter than I am.”  
  
“What?” Juan and Max were surprised. She was an elementary school teacher. Mark went to MIT as a teenager and was a defense industry hire after graduate school.  
  
“Yeah. We compared numbers. Hers are higher than mine. She went to primary school in Switzerland because they were trying to slow her down. Learn another language, not just content. She went to high school early, and college early, just like I did. You’ve seen her school records.” Obviously. Mark knew Stacy had been researched carefully. “She has graduate degrees, plural. Stacy’s really smart.”  
  
“And she did come up with the main part of the plan,” Juan added. "Have Linc and MacD test her out on handguns. We should do months of preparation, and we have days. At best.” He tossed back the second whiskey and poured another one.

\-------------------------

MacD pushed the button to bring the target back to the bench. Damn. Yeah, when they’d shown her how to load and use the .45 she seemed to know what to do, but he didn’t expect this. Every shot, all fifteen, in the target area of center mass. Only two holes. She’d put every shot on target.  
  
“Miss Stacy, where did you learn to do that?” Linc was incredulous.  
  
“You’ve all made a lot of assumptions about me.” She cleared the weapon and handed it back to MacD. “Once, when I was a little girl, before Mom died, we went to Grandma’s house. From San Diego to Colorado. We got there from the airport in the middle of the night. I overheard ‘new kittens in the barn’ before I fell asleep. The next morning, when I got up, I wanted to see those kittens. Girl on a mission. No one else was in the house, they were all out with the horses, and I wasn’t about to wait. The rule was, always check before you opened the back door. Snakes on the stoop where the concrete was warm. There was a sharpened straight hoe by the door for that purpose, but this snake was big, and I didn’t think I could get it with the hoe. So, I went to the junk drawer and pulled out Grandpa’s .38. I shot the snake through the screen. Blew its head off with three shots.”  
  
“You killed a snake with a pistol?”  
  
“Yes. Please note: this was the first time I ever fired a gun. And I was five.”  
  
“You are shittin’ me,” Linc said. “That’s pure bullshit.”  
  
“Call my dad. Call my brothers. Call my grandma. Call their hired man. They will all verify the story. Grandma told the story to Mark when he came out to visit. The rattlesnake turned out to be six feet long. If it had bitten me, it would have killed me. I distinctly remember my brother Nick not getting in trouble for saying ‘Annie Fuckin’ Oakley’ in front of Grandma. They didn’t know whether to punish me or hug me.”  


\------------------------

The dining room table was still being used as a conference table, so they were eating in the kitchen. Maurice laid out a buffet, and Linc, MacD, and Stacy were the first ones in line.  
  
“What do you see in that geek, Stacy?” Linc teased.  
  
“I’m available, you know,” MacD put in.  
  
Stacy took a deep breath and let it out. Her eyes flashed. Enough was enough. They’d given her shit all day. Her students would have recognized the look and known something was rolling down—hopefully not on one of them. She forgot about Maurice being in the room and totally focused on the two men.  
  
“Enough.” She clutched the empty plate to her chest tightly. Her voice was firm and full of emotion. “You two have no idea. No idea what it’s like to be different. To have your peers look at you and call you a freak. My mother died. I had to go live with Grandma and Grandpa. In Kindergarten there, I was in the principal’s office every day. Mrs. Jonas couldn’t keep up with me and the first-grade teacher threatened to quit if I was in her class the next year—the only first grade class in the school. So, they sent me away. Boarding school. You can’t tell a five-year-old it’s not something she did, that it’s for her own good. Children don’t understand that. I lost my mom, my home, my family, my country, my language. Because I was too smart. There we stood, Anna and Stacy, two lost little girls, everyone looking at us and calling us freaks.” She took another breath. It was a disjointed explanation; she wasn’t making sense and she knew her emotions were getting in the way.  
  
Juan had moved to the door of the kitchen, but no one saw him. Maurice, standing stock still, met Juan’s eyes. They silently agreed to stay out of this.  
  
“Always on the outside. When people find out how smart you are, it’s all about what you can do for them. Mark, Eric, me—we don’t need people who had…advantages in childhood telling us we’re geeks, nerds, and freaks. We know. You need to stop. Now. The teasing isn’t appropriate. It’s offensive. It hurts.”  
  
She sat her plate carefully down on the counter. She wanted to slam it down or throw it at the men, but that wouldn’t be proper.  
“Neither of you is my type, by the way.”  
  
“What is your type?” Linc asked, chastened.  
  
“Smart.” With that, she turned around, blushed as she saw Juan, and walked out.  
  
Linc and MacD just stood there. Juan laughed at their consternation and headed back to the dining room. It took backbone to stand up to a former SEAL and a former Delta Force operator.


	5. Chapter 5

The plan details fell into place. Juan and Stacy would go with Linc and MacD to Seville to neutralize the Alvares-Cuevas y Silva family. From there, they would go to Paris for a shopping spree. Stacy would need to dress the part. Eddie Seng and his team were in Italy, preparing for a direct assault on the weapons storage and drug lab. They didn’t have enough operatives to mount four raids at one time, so two teams from NUMA would hit the targets in Croatia, where the weapons were delivered and sent on to Syria. Finally, Juan’s team would go to Trieste, where they would get Petrov to introduce them to Erlanger. This team, without Stacy, would assault Erlanger’s mountain. To keep the local constabulary off their trail, they would strip Erlanger’s house of all his valuables. It would look like a robbery, with a fire to cover their tracks. Stacy insisted there was art and other property in the house that had been stolen from across Europe during the Second World War. Repatriation. That fit Juan’s code of ethics. And they could keep anything left over.  


\--------------------------

The vanity of Gloria Alvares was astounding. She wasn’t surprised to see Stacy. Hadn’t everyone at Glion basked in her greatness? Gloria really believed that Stacy was representing a vacation company and the family had won the grand prize—a month on a luxury island resort in the Caribbean. Gloria’s mother and sisters practically threw clothes in a suitcase and ran onto the plane. Tiny would land them on an island the Corporation owned, where there were conveniently no cell phone, cable, or satellite signals. The Alvares-Cuevas y Silva family would be incommunicado for a month. The cement business Alvares-Cuevas owned--and why he'd worked with Erlanger--would run itself under his managers.  


\-------------------------

What surprised Juan was Stacy’s insistence on shopping in Seville, not just Paris. She bought some clothes, toiletries, a train case, magazines and romance novels, and her luggage. Believable backstory. Almost like she knew what she was doing…

“Linda swears she’s never shopping without Stacy again,” Julia ‘Doc’ Huxley said into her phone. They were on the plane heading to Rome from Paris to meet Juan and his team. “Stacy thoroughly intimidated one of those bitchy French boutique saleswomen. Had her in tears. Her friend Nina actually thinks Stacy’s going all in as your mistress—Nina tried to warn her off three times that I heard. Stacy was very thorough about creating a believable backstory. Down to the toothpaste tube being partially used. We spent a lot of your money.”  


“And?” Juan asked.  
  
“I think you will find it has been worthwhile.” Julia looked at Stacy. Mark would enjoy it, at any rate.

\------------------

“Kevin did her makeup and hair. She’s dressed for the part.” Linda maneuvered her crutches out of the hotel suite bedroom to the living room. “But she’s a little shy about coming out in the dress.”  


“Why?” Max asked. She was just a girl in a dress.  


“She looks like a rich man’s mistress,” Linda answered. “You just gotta do it, Stacy,” she called behind her into the bedroom.  


The door opened. Mouths dropped. Stacy walked out, gracefully, despite the four-inch heels. (Thank you, finishing school.) The dress—what little there was of it—was clingy and red and highlighted every curve. It was mid-thigh in length and could easily show everything (not) covered by her little thong panties if she moved the wrong way.  


Kevin Nixon had done makeup for award-winning Hollywood movies. He’d left Stacy looking natural, accenting her youth. Her hair was mostly loose, long, but off her face and artlessly curled.  


They still stared. Linda started laughing. “I guess we got the look we were going for.”  


Mark flushed. He’d seen everything she had to see. They’d been lovers for two years. He knew how beautiful she was. But he’d never seen Stacy like this. She was looking at him, questioning what he thought of this look. “You are so beautiful, Stacy,” was all he could say. She smiled at him, and he knew he’d said the right thing.  


Looking between Murph and Stacy, Juan thought the room would catch fire. He’d have to tread carefully. Murph was a valuable employee, a member of his crew--his family, and Stacy was his lover—not just a casual girlfriend. They’d go over ground rules, the three of them, later.


	6. Chapter 6

The _Oregon_ was waiting for them off Trieste.  


“I need to talk to you,” Stacy looked at Mark as they went down the elevator to the bridge. She wasn’t surprised, exactly, by the looks of the decrepit old lumber hauler, but the smell of the decoy decks had turned her a little green.  


“Privately,” Mark added. They were sharing his quarters. Finally, they might get five minutes alone. Being this close after months apart had been torture. He needed her like he needed to breathe. And it was getting hard to breathe thinking about her in that red dress. Hard. Yeah, hard.  


Juan pretended he hadn’t heard the exchange. He knew what they’d be doing the first chance they had to lock the door. But that was okay now. There was no way she could get intel off his ship.

Introductions were made, facilities were shown. The last thing on the tour was Mark’s quarters. The door locked. Alone at last. “We need to talk,” he said as they stood together. She reached for him, and the kiss was passionate. “Later. After.” Their last time together had been three months ago, two brief hours in Los Angeles. She needed him—he needed her, and it had been too long. They’d gotten naked and were in bed ‘getting busy,’ when Stacy started feeling nauseous. An out-of-season bora was creating chop. She made it to the head, but that thoroughly killed the mood.  


\------------------

“Mark, you can call Doc Huxley, but those pills don’t work for me.” Stacy could hardly lift her head off the pillow. “Ask her if there’s some wristband thing. Grandma had them on her cruise.” She couldn’t take the pills—she didn’t know if they were safe for the baby. Was she ever going to be able to tell him? Somehow, barfing all over Mark while telling him they were pregnant didn’t seem appropriate.

\---------------------

“We’ll have two teams, and the guys from NUMA will be teams three and four. Raven, Linc, MacD and I will be in Austria with two gun dogs and a group of ‘movers’ to take all the personal property. We’ll have the _Oregon_ at Trieste, and the NUMA ship will be off Rijeka supporting their teams. Eddie’s team will be in Trieste. We should be able to do a simultaneous takedown. Erlanger, Petrov, Abdelrahman, and Messina.” The money man, the arms dealer, the weapons buyer, and the chemist.  


\-----------------

“Where’s Stacy?” Eric asked. He hadn’t seen her since she came on board two days ago.  


“Stacy is seasick. Very very seasick,” Mark sighed. So much for their private time. At this rate, he’d never get that ring on her finger. If she was conscious, she was throwing up. And so much for thinking she’d be able to join the Corporation and be on the ship with him.  


\-----------------

Juan was worried. Stacy was their passport to Erlanger. She couldn’t get in enough preparation, as sick as she was. He’d had Doc Huxley look at her, and Doc pronounced seasickness. Cure? Get off the ship. When she was able to participate, Juan worked with her on their cover. Her Spanish was excellent, and she seemed to grasp the requirements and procedures. But she was still an untrained civilian.  


\-----------------

They were to meet Petrov and Messina at a villa on the Adriatic. Set up like a private beach resort, Juan and Stacy would share a room and attend some meetings together, Stacy translating Spanish to French. Petrov’s translator would interpret the French into Russian. If things went well, they would convince Petrov that Alvares-Cuevas possessed stolen American weapons and could get more. When Petrov was convinced, he would send them to Erlanger for final vetting. That was when they’d take out Erlanger and set the rest of the operation—the three other teams—in motion. Assuming Stacy could stop throwing up.


	7. Chapter 7

There was a camera in their room. Pointed at the bed. Juan found it soon after they were shown to their suite. At night, they’d make the room as dark as possible and make noises and motions so Petrov would think they were having sex. Her underwear covered more than the bikini she’d brought, but it was still hard being almost intimate with a man she didn’t know and didn’t trust. There were so many ways he could end her life. It was obvious he’d been an operative for a long time. His skills scared her.  


And he knew. He knew about the baby. The second night, getting ready for bed, she’d been in the bathroom when he came in without knocking. No cameras or bugs in the bathroom. They checked it twice a day.  


“¿Sabe Marco?” (Does Mark know?) Juan asked quietly, a furious expression on his face.  


Deer in the headlights. “¿Que?” (Know what?)  


“Estas embarazada." (That you’re pregnant.) Juan looked at her in the mirror. “You don’t have birth control pills and you didn’t bring monthly supplies. You don’t drink, you eat strange combinations of things, and you still throw up, even though you’re off the ship. You’re pregnant. How far along are you?”  


She took a deep breath. “No. Mark doesn’t know. Fourteen weeks.” She was pale and clammy, almost crying. “I wanted to tell him right off the plane that first day. But you were there. We tried so hard to be alone, have some privacy, but it just never worked out. You separated us; we got the point. Then even on the ship, we couldn’t, not after I was so seasick.”  


“I am NOT happy. This could totally compromise the op. You could lose the baby. What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was barely controlled anger. Suppressed, but everyone who knew Juan would have been surprised. He never got this angry. Stacy was terrified of him now.  


Time to step up. She was shaking. “This needed to be done. I know I’m not the best choice, but you couldn’t find anyone else. You said so yourself. Please, don’t blame Mark.” She turned from the mirror and looked at him intently. “Please don’t tell him. I need to see his face. I need to know he wants the baby. Promise me you won’t tell him. Please.” Her voice broke on the last word.  


He ran his hand through his hair. “We’re in too deep to stop now. For fuck’s sake, just be careful.” With that, he turned and left the bathroom. Fucked. They were fucked.


	8. Chapter 8

The final meeting. The final hurdle. The final challenge to overcome to get to Erlanger and make a deal. Luka Ivanovich Petrov, their final test. He was the middleman, part of the network of the poppy fields of Afghanistan and part of the network of stolen weapons. Messina made the drugs, Petrov transported them, Erlanger arranged distribution of them in Europe. Petrov received the weapons stolen by gangs and corrupt servicemen and distributed them in Syria through Abdelrahman. Petrov handed them off at Erlanger’s direction. Erlanger paid off law enforcement and customs agents. Erlanger arranged most of the weapons sales to the Syrians Abdelrahman solicited. It was an interconnected, closed network. If Juan could convince Petrov he could get a steady supply of American weapons out of Spain, he could get to Erlanger. The problem was being in the same room as Petrov. After four days of partying, Juan’s patience was wearing thin. Luka Petrov didn’t use the drugs he sold, his mistress did; he also used some of the drugs to keep a ‘stable’ of women compliant enough to meet his ‘appetites,’ and what Juan knew of them turned his stomach. One of the girls had approached him the first day with offers for several varieties of fetishes.  


Petrov sat the briefcase full of money on the table. The price of the stolen weapons. Juan would take it in trade for the location of and procedure to access them. Stacy wasn’t there to translate (Juan expected sign language or no conversation), and he was surprised when Petrov spoke to him in fluent Spanish. This brought up a new area of small talk.  


“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” Juan said. He took a puff of his cigar, and then a sip of vodka.  


“Yes. I was in Cuba for a time.” They knew Petrov had been in the Soviet Navy as a very young man, and he smiled lasciviously at the memories.  


“Sailors on shore leave. Always the same interests.”  


“Yes. I found the Cuban girls…enthusiastic.” The Russian lit his own cigar then tossed back his vodka. “But sometimes you need to show women you are in charge. Yours is a Spanish convent girl, yes? She knows her place? You are going to get her pregnant? You can be…forceful with her until then.”  


“Yes. I want a son. She was a convent girl—a virgin. She can be a…handful, but I know how to discipline her.” Juan leered back at Petrov. “We should get down to business. Finish this. I find I would like to show her sooner rather than later that I am in charge.” He texted Stacy, then put down his phone, and the meeting started. In Spanish.

\---------------------

Juan strode through the door to the deck like a man on a mission. His look was intense; dark and sexual, as he took off his jacket and loosened his tie, pulling it free from his collar. Stacy turned, twisted, and watched as he moved behind her, then she was flat on her back as the lounger fell. Juan abruptly moved over her; one knee thrust between her legs as she lay back on the chaise. They were out by the pool, ostensibly alone. She was sunning in a bikini; he had come from the meeting, still dressed. But they weren’t alone, and they both knew it. Petrov and his men were watching. Cameras. Another one of his perversions. Juan looked deeply into her eyes, as a lover would. But they weren’t lovers.  


“We have to go through with it.” He whispered into her ear and then kissed her, tongue in her mouth, pressing on her teeth. “He’s watching.”  


“I know. I don’t want this." Stacy was afraid. Juan was a big man; intimidating and still angry about the baby. She was almost sobbing, as she took his face in her hands, blocking her lips, and kissed him back. She started unbuttoning his shirt. He pushed her hands away and held them above her head. There would be marks on her wrists.  


“I know. I’ll do my best to make it look good. Only look real, not be real. But I’m going to have to touch you. You understand?” He was nuzzling her neck, biting, still careful not to show his lips outside their embrace.  


“Yes. But Mark and I never—” She broke off. He was biting her, and it hurt.  


He’d never done anything like this, either. He was moving lower. “I know. It wasn’t like this with him.” He felt her stiffen as he touched down her body. “Try to be calm. We won’t hurt the baby. It’ll just look like rough sex.”  


“I think you should stop talking so I can concentrate.” Her voice was strained. “Please.” So I don’t start screaming, she thought. They’d been able to pretend to sleep together, sharing a bed, mussing it to look like they’d been intimate. Getting dressed in the bathroom, never showing anything less than underwear. No affection in public. She was supposed to be a modest girl from a convent school. Now they’d have to make it look like real sex. Rough sex. She wasn’t sure what that even meant.  


He proceeded to make fake love to her. He yanked off her bikini top, tearing the straps, trying to make it look erotic, touching and sucking her pregnancy-sensitive breasts. Pinching them. Biting and sucking in other places, deliberately marking her. She cried out from the pain. He worked his way down her body with his lips, then slipped his fingers into her bikini pants. He caressed near where a lover would, but not quite the right spot. He pulled the panties off roughly, breaking the fasteners. His movements would have looked real to those watching. She would have marks, on her neck and her wrists and her breasts and the inside of her thighs. Scratches from his belt buckle, a cut from the lounger. She could feel the metal arm biting into her leg as he held her down. He lifted off her to open his pants, then she felt his erection against her leg, but he didn’t penetrate her. She knew it was over when he ejaculated on her belly.  


He hadn’t taken off his clothes. And she was lying there, naked. He stood up, zipped his pants, and shrugged off his shirt, pinching her breast again. He leered at her, playing for the camera he wasn’t supposed to know about, then offered her a hand, and she sat up. 

She started to cover herself with her hands but stopped before it would undo their efforts, so he took his shirt, and wrapped it around her. She was profoundly upset, so embarrassed, so violated. He kissed her again, put his arm around her, and led her to their bedroom. It was all she could do not to flinch away.  


\---------------------

The Russian wasn’t the only one watching. It was Mark’s turn to sit surveillance, and he was stunned. This wasn’t what they’d agreed to. They’d agreed the Chairman and Stacy would pretend to be lovers. No nudity. Very little PDA. They’d agreed the two would share a room and pretend to be intimate, but they hadn’t agreed she’d have actual sex with him. She’d cried out like she was enjoying it! Anger, disgust, jealousy, betrayal, all coursed through him as he saw them by the pool. He wanted to run down there and tear them apart, he wanted to scream at her—how could she do this? Was it because they hadn’t had sex in a while? Had she been cheating before this? He’d almost asked her to marry him, for fuck’s sake. He’d loved her and she’d betrayed him. But he couldn’t look away.  


\-------------------

Juan held the door to their room open for her and saw blood running down her leg. “Stacy—you’re bleeding. Let me see.” How was it possible to be even more disgusted with himself? It was a big, deep gash on her hip. That had to have been painful, and she hadn’t said a word. Typical of an assault victim, she must have been numb or using the pain to keep from crying out as he hurt her.  


“It’s from the arm of the lounger. It was cutting in when—” She couldn’t finish the sentence and she couldn’t look at him. He knew the cut was from when he had pushed her down, putting his full weight on her. It’d felt like she was angled wrong, and now he knew why.  
“I’ll bandage it when you’re finished cleaning up.” He tactfully didn’t mention from what. He knew her abdomen would be a sticky mess. It had taken all his concentration to complete the act.  


She knew she’d have to wait until the bathroom to break down. She handed his shirt back to him and naked, moved as slowly as she could to the shower. The camera in their room was watching. Thirty minutes later, Juan went in after her. It wouldn’t do if she’d drowned herself in the bathtub, although he wouldn’t blame her. What he’d done would have been tough for an experienced lover, or an experienced operative, and Stacy wasn’t experienced, wasn’t an operative, and she wasn’t his lover. She hadn’t locked the door, so he looked and found some first aid supplies in one of the drawers.  


“Stacy?” His voice was gentle as he opened the shower door. She was sitting on the floor, her knees drawn up, head down, sobbing silently. “You’re going to have to come out. I need to put a bandage on that cut.” He could see blood on the tile running down the drain. She just kept crying, so he turned off the water and went in after her with a towel.  


It cut him to the core to see her flinch away from him. She would have climbed the wall if she could. Some bruises were starting, he could see them on her arms and neck. Love bites, yes, but there were finger marks where he’d grabbed her, hard. Scratches. Jesus. Murph was going to kill him. Murph would need time off to be with Stacy. She’d need therapy to get through this. Juan would make sure they both got what they needed to heal.  


“Stacy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.” His voice was low, quiet. “You’re so brave. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” He was speaking to her like she was a child, trying to comfort her, keep her from going into shock. She was trembling as he put on the bandage. “Now let’s go get you dressed.” They had another—hopefully final—performance to get through that night at dinner.


	9. Chapter 9

It worked. Petrov was convinced Cabrillo/Alvares could provide more stolen weapons for Erlanger’s group. When he went to retrieve the first batch, Eddie’s team would take him out and grab Messina at the same time. While they took out Petrov, the NUMA team would go after Abdelrahman and his men and the weapons already in the pipeline.  


Juan and Stacy had flown commercial from Trieste to Vienna to Innsbruck. The airport was busy, and they had to go through customs. 

Stacy was following behind Juan when he felt her tug on the hem of his jacket. He turned and smiled and leaned in as though he was going to kiss her. Stacy tried not to flinch away. She had to tell him. “The customs agent. I recognize the customs agent,” she whispered into his ear as he put his lips to her cheek. She had to force herself not to rub the contact off her face. She kept her face down and partially hidden in her hair. The agent might recognize her. She'd seen him at Erlanger's house every time she'd been there.  


\--------------------

That explained how Erlanger was tipped off to Interpol and other agents. He had men at the airport. They went to the hotel where they would rendezvous with the rest of the team and checked in. Juan had made sure the team knew to be circumspect about their meeting—Erlanger could have people at the hotel. Final assignments were given.  


“Linc, MacD, Raven and I will go in from the back. Cliff and Pete, you’ll cover the front.” They traded information about the number of guards and changes to the property since Stacy had been at the house. “Stevens and Hunter, you’ll be in the first truck. Lawrence and Evans in the second.” Weapons were passed out and bags loaded. “Rendezvous at the rally point in an hour.” That would give them time to leave the hotel individually, to avoid suspicion. The meeting broke up and the team members headed for the door of Juan’s suite.  


“What about me?” Stacy asked softly after the others had left. She was sitting on a chair near the desk. She looked cold and scared.  


“You'll stay here. We’ll pick you up on the way out after the op.” Juan was packing his gear. He gave her a quick look and kept packing. He’d had the team bring his battle leg, and he’d already strapped it on.  


“I can’t stay here alone.” Her voice was high and tight. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked slightly back and forth.  


Juan turned and looked at her. “Stacy, you’ll be fine.” He didn’t want to take the time to do the handholding she seemed to need right now, but if he was too blunt, she might break down.  


She looked up at him. “The customs agent. I recognized him. I know the chief of police was there at least twice. How many more people in town are on his payroll?” She rocked a little faster. “I’m afraid they’ll recognize me. Or think I’m Anna. Erlanger’s friends know Anna is dead. He knows I look like her. If they say they saw Anna’s twin, he could recognize me; they could tip off Erlanger, and that would blow the mission.”  


“Stacy. Think about it.” He was really upset with her now and his voice showed it. “You’re pregnant. You could get shot. You could die. You could fall and have a miscarriage. You cannot do this.”  


She was crying and rocking. “I’m so scared. I’m scared they’ll recognize me and kill me. I’m scared they’ll come after you, tip off Erlanger. I’m scared you’ll leave me here and I’ll never get home. Whether I stay here or go with you, I’m so scared.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “Please. Please. Take me with you.”  


Juan took in a deep breath and his jaw was set. “Stacy, we can’t do this. You can’t do this. You have to stay here.” He was angry again and she heard it in his voice.  


She was sobbing. “Please.” She begged. Crying and rocking. “Please don’t leave me here.”  


“Fuck!” Juan threw something, a glass, maybe, at the wall and it shattered. She jumped, almost out of the chair, but she didn’t stop crying. She couldn’t.

\--------------------

Juan and the rest of his team were driving from Innsbruck up the mountain in two rented black SUVs. Tiny Gunderson and George ‘Gomez’ Adams, their helicopter pilot, would be flying into Innsbruck with a cargo plane to take out any weapons from Erlanger’s stash, and the fast helicopter to transport people to and from the ship off Trieste, but they weren’t there yet. Juan, Linc, MacD, Raven, and Stacy were in one SUV. Cliff and Pete were in the other. The four gun dogs who would be the movers, taking all the valuables out of the house, would follow behind in the two trucks. 

If Stacy had to come with them, Juan thought she could take any children they found to Lichtenstein, but she’d flat out refused to do that as well. When she put a hand to her abdomen, he understood why. She couldn’t handle the idea of the abuse in her condition. The team was kitted out, full ‘battle rattle’ and ready to breach. Juan remembered how she’d shied away when he went to put on her vest, and how Raven had to do it. She was terrified of Juan, but she wouldn’t let any of the other men touch her, either. She was a mess and he had no idea how she would cope. They left the SUVs about half a kilometer down the mountain from the house and walked in.  


The house was on the side of the mountain facing south. If they came in from the back, they’d have some cover from trees and the garage to get to the kitchen. Cliff and Pete would keep the guys in the front busy while Juan and the rest went in the kitchen door. They were expecting five guards in the back; Linc and MacD had been watching the house while Juan and Stacy were in Trieste. Going in now, MacD had counted off seven. And this wasn’t counting the guys in the front.  


Yes, those were American guns. M-16s, probably stolen from Rota. “On your left!” someone yelled. MacD turned, just in time to see the guard aiming at him. He could hear Juan and Raven laying down suppressive fire, but a second guard was firing back, keeping them pinned down. And then the guard aiming at him was gone, down with a shot to the head. It had taken less than a heartbeat—to go from certain death to clear. Another shot to his six and a third guard’s head exploded. Someone was watching out for him. Thanks, Linc.  


The yard was cleared in five minutes and they headed for the back door. Linc pulled out Stacy’s key. It fit and turned easily. The alarm was there, and Linc put in the code he’d memorized. The keypad turned from red to green—system down. Damn! They wouldn’t have gotten in the house without this.  


“Greta!” a man yelled. Linc’s high school German registered a conversation between the Schmidts. ‘Try to flank them,’ Frau Schmidt yelled. Stacy was right. They were armed, and that shotgun was pointed at his head. He watched what was about to be the shot that took him out, when Greta Schmidt’s chest sprouted a bright red patch and she fell.  


Juan had taken point, with MacD behind him, when they went through the door. Linc was in the middle; Raven and Stacy were in the rear. One of the women slipped and fell; Linc could hear it. Herr Schmidt was advancing on them with an AK. It was a clear shot and Linc couldn’t react in time. An old man gardener in Lederhosen with an AK was going to take MacD out from behind. Fucking embarrassing. Shit. Before he could fire, the old man’s chest sprouted a red spot, too. Thank God Raven was a good shot.  


Juan and MacD were taking fire in the next room. He heard a ‘fuck’ from Juan. Someone grabbed his arm. “Take care of Raven,” Stacy said. “She needs to go get the girls. Help her but stay out of sight of the girls.” With that, she ran after Juan.  


MacD was pinned down behind a prissy sofa, magazine almost empty. Wolfgang Gerhard paused to reload but MacD dropped the new clip he was about to insert. Before MacD could react or die, Gerhard was down, a hole blossoming in his forehead. MacD looked to his right and there was their target, Erlanger, with a Glock and a bead on the Chairman, who was down on the floor in the hall. Another pop and Erlanger was gone. That had taken less than five seconds. Good thing Linc had their six. MacD pulled out and loaded another clip, just in case. He picked up the dropped clip and put it back in his pocket.  


Cliff Hornsby and Pete Jones, their gun dogs, came in one behind Gerhard’s position and one down the hall where Erlanger had come out. “Clear!” Pete called. “Clear!” Cliff echoed. “Clear!” Linc shouted from the kitchen.  


They heard a weapon skitter across the floor. MacD looked up to see Stacy kick Erlanger’s gun away from his body as he tried to go after it. He saw her lips move, but couldn't hear what she said. And damned if she didn’t shoot him again. The look on her face was pure hatred.  


They heard Raven leave with two little girls, both crying loudly, and Raven cajoling equally as loud. She’d taken her long, black hair down to prove to the girls she was also a girl and shook it out of the way. She pulled the keys to one of Erlanger’s cars off the wall and the trio headed for the garage. She’d drive them to the SUV, then they’d have the car seats the girls would need for the trip to Vaduz.  


Raven hadn’t been happy about this change in her part of the mission—Stacy was their weak link; she should have been the one to get the girls and get them out. But when Stacy flat out refused to take the girls, Juan backed her play. He was the boss, so she did what she was told. The girls would go to a convent orphanage where they would be cared for. Raven got the little ones into the SUV they’d driven from Innsbruck and headed west to Lichtenstein.  


“Are you ready to start clearing the house?” Stacy asked them. “Do you know what to take? And someone should take the car Raven used when you leave. Get it off the road.” She tried to give her voice a calm she didn’t feel, with the teacher authority people responded to automatically.  


To Linc’s ears, she sounded tense, upset; even more than any civilian would be in the situation. Any minute now, more of the _Oregon’s_ team would roll up with the truck, ready to strip Erlanger’s house of intelligence and stolen art. Stacy walked over to a large painting and swung it away from the wall.  


Erlanger’s vault. A keypad showed red, and she entered a code. Green. That asshole Erlanger hadn’t changed a thing in a decade.  


The vault door opened. Lights came on. Stacy went in and then stuck her head around the door. “You’ll want to take all of this. Careful with the paintings.” Cliff and Pete followed her in, removing empty bags from their packs to clear the vault.  


“Nice shootin’ friend,” MacD said to Linc. “How did we get so exposed? We were expecting all of this.”  


“Back at you,” Linc responded. “What’d you get six, seven?”  


“I got two,” MacD looked puzzled. “You must have got six or seven.”  


“I got two,” Linc looked equally puzzled. “The Chairman?” MacD shook his head--no.  


“Raven?” MacD asked.  


“I think she got two,” Linc answered.  


Stacy came out of the vault. She was fastening something around her neck and tucking it under her vest. Pete, Cliff, MacD, Linc, she counted off. Raven was on the way to Vaduz. Where was Juan?  


“Where’s Juan?” she asked loudly. That got everyone’s attention. 

They found the Chairman around the corner down a third hall. He was sitting up, but there was blood on the floor where he’d moved.  


“Get this vest off me,” he croaked.  


Linc was closest. He ripped off the vest—chest wound.  


“What happened?” MacD asked  


“Ricochet. It went in from an odd angle. From off that door, I think.” Juan winced. That was the door to the basement.  


“We need to get him out of here,” Stacy stated the obvious.  


They heard voices in the kitchen. The men with the truck were here.  


Stacy knelt to help MacD. “Look, I can’t pack anything out, I can’t clear the basement, and I can’t blow up the house. Help me get him to a car. I’ll get him down the mountain—you all finish here.” She had taken off her own vest and was packing her overshirt in Juan’s wound. She looked up at the four men she could see. She added tape from their first aid supplies to hold the chest tube MacD put in. Pneumothorax, from the location of the wound. The sight and smell of the blood almost made her heave, but there was nothing in her stomach.  


“She’s right. Help me up.” Juan concentrated on breathing.  


The first team of ‘movers’ started to work. MacD took Juan under the arms and Linc took his feet. Together, they carried Juan out, the way the movers had come in, to the garage.  


The garage was enormous. Room for ten cars, but only two were there. The team had backed up the truck into one of the bays and put out a ramp. It had started to rain. “Which car?” Linc asked.  


Stacy looked at the keys she’d grabbed off the board. “The silver one.” The silver one with the horse on the key tag—and on the grille.  


“Damn, girl,” Linc said. “The Ferrari?”  


“It’s fast, and I drove one like this the last time I was here.” She looked up at the men as they finished buckling Juan into the passenger seat. “We had concert tickets. Anna didn’t know how to drive. I wasn’t invited back, but that was okay.” Why was she telling them this? She couldn’t stop talking.  


“Take everything that’s not nailed down,” Stacy instructed in what was supposed to be her teacher voice. “If it’s nailed down, unfasten it. Most of it will need to be repatriated. And BE CAREFUL clearing that basement. God only knows what’s down there.” It came out high and anxious, not teacher firm and steady. She ran around to the driver’s side, got in, started it up, pushed the door opener, and drove away. Twelve cylinders shot the car off into the night. It looked like it was really raining now.  


The movers were bringing the first things out of the house. Cliff and Pete came out with a bag in each hand and something under an arm. “You shoulda seen that vault, man,” Cliff exclaimed. “Lots of sparkly stuff.”  


“I hope she knows how to drive that thing,” Lawrence said. “It’s raining harder as you go into town. It’s gonna be hairy going down that mountain. Some of that rain is sleet.”


	10. Chapter 10

Stacy was going as fast as she dared around the switchback curves. The car’s aerodynamics were the best there could be, but she had to concentrate every fiber of her being on keeping the car on the road. She had the wheel in a death grip. Juan moaned in the passenger seat.  
  
“Juan, can you hear me?” she asked, eyes still on the road.  
  
“Can’t breathe,” he gasped.  
  
“I know. I’m going as fast as I can.” Her voice sounded strained. “Just concentrate on staying alive. Gomez is going to have Doc Huxley at the airport. We’ll be there soon.”  
  
“Don’t know…” he faded out.  
  
“Cabrillo! Juan! Don’t you die on me, you son of a bitch!” 

\-------------------------

The doc put in a better chest tube in and hung IVs with blood and fluids. Doc Huxley and Gomez had gotten Juan in the helicopter, the fastest one in the Corporation’s fleet that could land on the _Oregon’s_ helo pad. “We’ll operate when we get him on the ship.” She looked hard at Stacy. “You made it just in time. I don’t think he could have held on much longer. What happened?” Julia was on the headset with Gomez, but Stacy wasn’t.  
  
Stacy took a deep breath. She felt shaky; clammy, and nauseous. “It was a ricochet. Under the vest. One in a million shot.” Another deep breath. “There were more guards than we expected in the back. Nine, not five or six. Plus, the ones in the front; Cliff and Pete kept them busy while we went in. All of them are dead. The movers had just got there. I don’t know what was in the basement.”  
  
Julia could see Stacy was shaking, wearing only a thin turtleneck undershirt and her black pants. Shock. Well, Stacy would just have to suck it up. Julia was too busy keeping the Chairman alive. What could she do for the girl? “Keep talking to me, Stacy.  


Julia didn't know if Gomez had Stacy on the headsets and she wasn't sure Stacy could hear her as she worked on Juan. "Stay awake, Stacy; stay with me.” Yes, that was all she could do right now. Mark could take care of her when they got to the ship.


	11. Chapter 11

Mark. She’d get to the ship and Mark would be there. He’d stayed on the ship deliberately as they needed his skills at the weapons station. Petrov’s personal navy was well-armed and would have responded when Eddie’s team attacked. She prayed they were okay.  


Mark. She needed him so much. She pictured him, her tall, handsome Texan, warm and solid. He’d be wearing one of those stupid punk band t-shirts and those baggy cargo shorts. She tried to imagine his embrace. She came up to his shoulder, and she could hear his heartbeat when she turned her head. He’d smell like Old Spice and taste like Red Bull. His arms would cross over her back and she would turn her face up for his kiss. He would hold her, and everything would be okay. She kept talking, but she had no idea if she made any sense. She was so cold. Mark would be warm. The minute she saw him, she’d tell him about the baby, no matter who else was around. 

Stacy was rambling. Julia only half heard her as she worked on Juan. Something about shooting people. Julia kept encouraging her to talk and stay awake, but Stacy was slipping deeper into shock.

Gomez had the helicopter full throttle. They were minutes away from the ship. He stole a quick glance back at Doc Huxley and Stacy. Stacy was shaking and as white as a sheet—where she wasn’t covered in blood. Her lips were moving, but he didn’t think anything was coming out. She didn’t have comms in her headset so he couldn’t talk to her.

The trauma team met them at the landing pad. Stacy followed them down, barely able to walk. Where was Mark?  


No one paid any attention to her as she walked on her rubber legs. The bulkhead was all that was holding her up. She was still rambling, mumbling, and she saw him. She thought she ran to him, but she was weaving slowly like she was drunk. Mark! She held out her hands to him, shaking.  


\-----------------

There she was. He’d had 24 hours to think about her. About her having sex with his boss. About her lying to him. He thought he’d been her first lover, but had she lied about that too? Had she been cheating on him all this time? He’d never know. He wanted nothing to do with her. Let the Chairman--and his money--deal with her. Mark remembered she said she loved him, but at her first taste of real wealth, she dumped him. 

\-----------------

Just a few more steps. She reached for him and…  
  
Mark sidestepped her hands.  


Tears were streaming down her face and it was all she could do to stand. Why wouldn’t he hold her? She didn’t realize she was still rambling. It was a few minutes until she wound down.  
  
“Mark? What’s wrong?" She finally said. There was anger in his face now. Why? He just stood there, glaring at her.  
  
"Please, hold me,” she finally cried. Where was the man she loved? This cold, angry man wasn’t her Mark.  


She looked awful--bloody and wet and half-naked. Well, fuck her. She deserved it. “Get your stuff out of my quarters. I don’t care where you go, just as long as it isn’t near me until you get off this ship.”  


Stacy just stared. “What?” she whispered.  


"You know what, you duplicitous little bitch." He turned and walked away.

Stacy was so hurt, so confused. What happened? What had she done? Where should she go? What should she do? She was so cold. She couldn’t stop shivering. The ship was hardly moving, but she felt so dizzy she could barely stand up. It was hard to walk even bracing herself against the walls of the passages.  


\-----------------------

Max was headed down to the surgery and literally ran into Stacy. She was wearing only a t-shirt and pants and had blood all over her face and chest, shivering. It had been raining in Innsbruck, but she shouldn’t be that cold on the ship. “You need to go get cleaned up, Stacy. Get to quarters and take a shower. We’ll need to debrief in a few minutes. I just have to check on the Chairman.” She’d be fine.  


Mark would take care of her.  


\--------------------

Quarters. The only place she could go to was Mark’s cabin but he didn't want her there. Would he be there? What would she do? How could she get off the ship? She opened his cabin door and ran drunkenly for the bathroom.  


She heaved, but there was nothing in her stomach. She took off her necklace and found her phone. She logged on and closed her bank accounts. No way could she take the money now. It was blood money.  


While she cried in the shower, trying to get warm, she tried to think of a plan. What could she say that would explain why she needed to leave the ship? What excuse could she give, something no one would question?  


Family. A family problem. She’d heard Gomez say he’d be going back to Trieste in about an hour after he’d refueled. Maybe he’d give her a ride. She was still so cold. She knew Mark had a hoodie; it would be warm. The only things she’d have left of him. His hoodie—and his baby.


	12. Chapter 12

A few hours later, Max was still outside the surgery. Linc and MacD were back on the ship and the movers were on their way to Lichtenstein with Cliff and Pete. When the movers had cleared an area, Cliff and Pete had laid fuel-air explosives to turn the house and the bodies to unrecognizable ashes. Erlanger’s house was probably still burning, despite the rain. Mike Halpert had coordinated with Interpol and an art repatriation group to get the ‘loot’ over the border. Gomez had finished his second trip into Trieste, Linc and MacD as passengers on the way home. Eddie’s team was back on the ship, only a few cuts and bruises. Except for the Chairman, they’d all been lucky.  
  
Linc and MacD had compared notes on their way back to the ship. “I shot two, you shot two, and Raven said she shot one when she called in. She had one clip left. That’s five of what, thirteen guys?”  
  
“Yeah. Who shot the other eight?”  
  
“The Chairman? Must have been.”  
  
“Couldn’t have been. He was on point and not in position in the yard or the kitchen.” MacD replayed the scene in his mind. And he was around the corner when Gerhard and Erlanger went down.”  
  
“I collected all our weapons. The Chairman’s, and Stacy’s, and Raven’s.” He pulled them out of various pockets. Cabrillo’s clip was empty; they’d recovered one other clip from his gear. Raven’s clip was empty. They were giving cover fire at one point in the yard. Of Stacy’s fourteen-round magazine with one in the chamber, six bullets were still there. She’d fired nine shots.  
  
“You don’t think…” Linc looked at MacD.  
  
“Damn,” was all MacD could come back with.  
  
The only explanation was Stacy. Stacy had taken out eight bad guys with eight shots and one extra for Erlanger. She’d saved all their lives.  
\----------------------  
Linc left MacD in the armory putting away their weapons and headed for the bridge.  
  
“Murph? Where’s Stacy?” Linc asked. He needed to debrief her and be sure she was okay. But no one remembered seeing her. He’d asked everyone he saw on his trip from the helicopter pad to the armory to the bridge.  
  
Mark didn’t look up from the console where he was checking their weapons readiness, now that they were in cleanup mode. “Don’t know, don’t care.”  
  
“What the fuck, Murph?” Linc remembered how different it had been days before when the team left on the op. Murph had been really worried about her leaving with the Chairman. Their kiss had been so hot Linc thought the deck would melt.  
  
“She is a duplicitous little bitch and I do not know or care where she is. As long as it’s not my quarters.” He kept working.  
  
There was a full crew in place on the bridge, with Linda in the Kirk chair. Everyone on the bridge looked taken aback now. The comm squawked and Max’s voice asked, “Hali, is Linc there?” That broke the spell, and everyone went back to their business.  
  
“Yeah, Max. He’s on his way down now.” Linc nodded at Hali and headed for sickbay.

\-----------------------

  
  


“How’s the Chairman?” Linc walked in to see Max and MacD waiting.  
  
“Doc has him in surgery.” Max sighed as he sat in the ‘waiting room’ outside Dr. Huxley’s exam room and operating theater. “She said he’s going to be okay. He lost a lot of blood, but Stacy got him back in time.”  
  
“Did they just get back?” Linc asked. He didn’t know when Gomez had brought them in.  
  
“No. He’s been in surgery for a while. Maybe in recovery by now. Juan and the Doc were Gomez’s first trip, hours ago. I think Stacy was with them.”  
  
“Fuck! She must have been doing over a hundred miles an hour in that car. We never thought about her driving when we planned this. I wasn’t sure we wouldn’t get to Innsbruck first, but we didn’t pass them on the road. I just hoped they hadn’t gone over a cliff.”  
  
“I ran into her in the hall when they brought the Chairman down. She was a little shaky, and she was covered in blood. Was any of it hers?” Max got up and started to pace.  
  
Linc looked at MacD who shrugged. He didn’t know. “I don’t know. Some of it could have been. She would have had the Chairman’s blood on her, and the back of one guy’s head exploded all over her when I shot him.” Linc looked at Max. “Max, she took out eight guys. Eight. Only eight shots, all either center mass or head. She saved us from Schmidt and Gerhard moving in with AKs.”  
  
Max’s mouth gaped and he had to catch his pipe. “Eight?! And she’s never done anything like this before?” Max was incredulous.  
  
“No. No other training. I mean, obviously she learned to shoot, but she said she hadn’t ever shot anything but a target when we tested her with weapons. The Chairman wasn’t about to give her a gun if she didn’t know how to use it. And snakes. She shot rattlesnakes on her grandparents’ ranch.” Linc harrumphed at the ‘snakes’ remark. Seemed like she’d gotten eight more today. “Do you know where she is? We wanted to start some of the debrief, and Doc Huxley should probably check her out.”  
  
“No. Did you ask Murph?” Max asked. Those two—they were probably in Murph’s cabin getting busy.  
  
“That’s the thing, Max. I did.” Linc paused and then continued slowly. “He was at his station on the bridge when you called down. He said, and I quote, ‘Don’t know, don’t care, as long as the duplicitous little bitch isn’t in my quarters.’” This made no sense. Everyone on the crew had seen how much they loved each other and how protective Murph was of her.  
  
“He said WHAT?” Max’s voice raised. Just then, Doc Huxley walked out of the surgery room, still in her scrubs.  
  
“You need to quiet down, Max. This is a hospital.” She glared at him.


	13. Chapter 13

Gomez Adams gave a covert glance at the woman in his passenger seat. This wasn’t the same Stacy he’d flown out to the _Oregon._ ‘Then’ Stacy had sat up in the seat, taking everything in, asking questions, enjoying the ride. This ‘now’ Stacy had wet hair pulled back in a ponytail and was rocking back and forth, not seeing anything, not making a sound. He didn’t think she knew she was crying. Those bruises he could see on her neck looked like love bites. She hadn’t been on the ship for a full hour—how did she get those from Murph? Why would he do that to her?  
  
“Hey, Stacy. Are you okay?” He looked again. It didn’t seem like she’d heard him. “Stacy? Are you okay?” he asked again.  
  
She didn’t look at him, and he could hardly hear her, even over the comms in the headset. “I’m fine.”  
  
“What did you say was wrong?” This whole situation was fishy.  
  
“I’m needed at home.”  
  
That was the same single-sentence story she’d given when she asked him if she could ride with him back to Trieste. “Where’s your purse? Do you have your passport?” Did a woman go anywhere without her purse?  
  
There was a significant pause before she said, “Yes.” She still wouldn’t look at him.  
  
They landed near the Corporation’s cargo plane, and Stacy just sat there, rocking, even after the rotors stopped. She was looking out the window but didn’t seem to see anything. No, something wasn’t right. “Stacy? Let’s get you unbuckled and out of here. You can catch your flight. Do you need a ride to the terminal?” What really shocked him was how she jumped when he brushed her leg while he unbuckled her harness. The look on her face was terror. What the hell had happened to her?  
  
When Stacy realized that it was only Gomez, unbuckling her, she forced herself to calm down. “Thank you.” She got out and just started walking away across the tarmac toward the apron.  
  
Tiny Gunderson walked up to Gomez and asked, “Where’s she going?” He looked after her trying to figure out where she would go.  
  
“I don’t know. And that’s not the way to the terminal, is it?”  
  
Whatever Gunderson had been about to say was preempted by the arrival of several trucks. More movers with Petrov’s weapons stash and Eddie’s team. When they looked again, Stacy was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

Juan tried to sit up. Hands pushed him back down. Doc Huxley. “You need to stay down. You have a chest tube.” He saw white walls and ceiling. Sickbay. Yes, he’d been shot.  
  
A chest tube, and an IV and oxygen, too, apparently. He remembered Linc and MacD putting him in the car. Stacy had been driving. That was it until he woke up here. He motioned for Doc to take off his oxygen mask. “Where’s Stacy? Is she okay?” he croaked. Had she been on the helicopter with them?  
  
Doc Huxley moved the head of the hospital bed, so he was partially sitting up. “I don’t know. I’ve been with you since she got you back. We landed and got you here. Stacy’s probably with Murph. She got you to the airport just in time, by the way. Much longer, and you might not have made it. You lost a lot of blood. You should rest now.”  
  
Juan groaned. Of course. Stacy. Three times she’d saved his life. “Julia, I know you don’t want to do this, but I have to talk to Overholt.”  
  
“You’re in recovery. You have no business working right now.” She started checking his vitals.  
  
“This is mission-critical. I need to talk to him right now.” Juan tried to emphasize the importance by tapping his hand on the blanket. He stopped after one tap caused his chest to hurt like hell. “Have Hali patch him through down here. Max needs to be here, too.”  
  
“What’s so important?” the doc said before she picked up the phone.  
  
“I know how Erlanger was getting tipped off all this time. The guy doing it is a flight risk. He’s a customs agent at the airport.” Juan leaned his head back and waited for the phone call to go through. “Stacy recognized him. Interpol needs to pick him up. Now.”  
  
\-------------------------   
Later that day, Juan was sitting up in bed, not any happier than when he’d first come out of the anesthesia. “Is anyone going to tell me they’ve found Stacy?”  
  
Max replied, “She’s not on the ship. Gomez took her back to Trieste about an hour after you got back. He didn’t know he should have kept her here.”  
  
“Why?” Juan asked. “Why would she leave?” Mark was here. Wouldn’t she be with him?  
  
“She told Gomez there was something going on at home, but she wasn’t on a plane out of Italy today. We haven’t seen a ticket for tomorrow yet, Stoney’s watching. So, she must still be in country. She left her passport and her purse. Eric can’t find her on airport surveillance cams, she didn’t rent a car or buy a ticket. We haven’t seen her on train or bus security cams, either. She had on a black hoodie and it was dark. She just disappeared.”  
  
“Damn. She needed to see a doctor. She’s got a deep cut on her ass, and I don’t know if any of the blood she was wearing was hers. I think some of it was, but I was kind of out of it. Has she accessed the money?” All Corporation operatives were paid shares of their fee.  
They’d agreed on a salary for Stacy and he’d ordered the money be paid immediately after the op, in case she needed something.  
  
“We can’t give her the money. The account is closed.” Max didn’t understand that, either. No big deal. She could get it later.  
  
“What does Murph say? He must know something.” Juan was getting frustrated. He knew he needed to calm down before Doc Huxley sedated him.  
  
Max looked even more confused. “Murph won’t look for her. Not at all. He took her stuff out of his quarters at shift change and gave it to Linda.” Max remembered Murph handing Linda Stacy’s earrings and the necklace she’d retrieved from Erlanger’s vault. He’d had a funny look—angry, hurt, something like that—and he’d practically thrown the rest of her stuff into Linda’s quarters. Why?  
  
“A possibly injured woman with no passport, no phone, and no money is running around a foreign country with no way to get home.  
I don’t care what you have to do, you need to find her. Yesterday. Make it happen.” When the Chairman used this tone, he accepted no excuses. He lay back again. It still hurt to breathe.  
  
“Yes, sir.” For his friend to use that tone, something was very wrong. The Chairman rarely got angry with the crew. Max knew he’d better obey the order. He walked out of the hospital room dialing the bridge.  
  
Max stood in the sickbay waiting room, phone at his ear. He gave Eric the order—find Stacy right now—and stared into space for a moment. Yes, something was up with the Chairman and Max needed to find out what it was. He turned and walked back into the hospital room.  
  
\---------------------   
“Chairman, I need to know what’s going on.” When Max used ‘Chairman’ instead of Juan for his long-time friend, he was angry. He turned the chair next to the bed and sat facing Juan, arms along the back of the seat. “I understand that you’re worried about Stacy, but why are we pursuing her like this? I don’t think she’ll say anything about what she did. What we did.” They had been concerned about their security. They didn’t really know her, and Max still didn’t trust her. She had done a good job, yes, but she wasn’t really their responsibility. Murph’s love life wasn’t their business, either.  
  
  
Juan just stared, looking at Max. He’d have to tell Max, and Julia should know. She’d know more about how to help Stacy. “Doc!” he yelled, then sighed and put his head back on the pillow. That was too loud.  
  
A few minutes later, Julia walked out of the adjoining examination room. “What? Are you in pain?” She looked even more tired than Juan was.  
  
“No.” Another sigh. “Sit down.” Juan knew this would be a difficult story to tell.  
  
When Doc was sitting, Juan started. “Max, what casualties were there on our side during this op?”  
  
Max thought about it for a minute. “You, obviously. Linda broke her leg early on, but I guess it counts. Raven sprained an ankle but not badly.”  
  
Doc took over. “We had some contusions among the three other teams, the NUMA teams and our team, from hand-to-hand combat. The NUMA crews have their own doc. A couple of shrapnel wounds. Grazes. One had two stitches and the rest have bandages. That’s all. I can’t believe how lucky we were on this.” She was good at her job, an excellent surgeon, but she hated to have to use her skills on her coworkers and friends.  
  
“There’s one casualty you don’t know about,” Juan said quietly. “Stacy.”  
  
“She didn’t look injured. You said she had a cut on her leg?” Max asked. She hadn’t looked injured when he saw her, but he hadn’t looked closely.  
  
“It’s not the cut that’s the problem. It’s how she got it.” Another deep breath. “Stacy was assaulted. Sexually assaulted.”  
  
Max and Julia just stared. “What happened? Who assaulted her? One of Petrov’s guys? Erlanger?” They spoke over each other, question after question.  
  
“Who assaulted her?” Juan mirrored in a voice that wasn’t exactly a question. Time to bite the bullet. “I did. I sexually assaulted Mark’s girlfriend.”  
  
The silence was deafening.  
  
Finally, Julia broke the spell. “Why would YOU assault Stacy?” This wasn’t the Chairman she knew. Juan had a clear sense of right and wrong and assaulting women wasn’t part of it.  
  
Juan continued, “We found out the big secret these men were keeping. The initiation—what got us into Erlanger’s group. In addition to their guns and drugs, they were sex trafficking. Did I hear Eddie’s team found a few girls?”  
  
“Yeah,” Max answered. “There were three women in Messina’s house, all high and strung out. There were some bondage things in with them. Whips, leather. Eddie turned the girls over to the local cops.”  
  
“There were more girls with Petrov and his Russians. Petrov had a girl, a professional, and he was into autoerotic asphyxiation. She had marks, bruises, all over her neck and arms. The other girls had marks, too, older ones, like he traded them off and on.” Juan was feeling the disgust rising again. “We had gone through all the meetings, four days of them, and finally Petrov wanted to meet with just me. He told us at dinner the fourth night. The next day we’d do the deal for the weapons. Stacy translated it, and then we went back to our room. After the lights were out, we talked about it. We knew there would be a test, an initiation, and then we would be in. I knew something was up with Petrov’s girls. I expected it would be me with one of them.”  
  
Juan shifted uncomfortably in the bed. “The next morning, after we had breakfast together, Stacy went to wherever the girls hung out and I went to the meeting. Big surprise—Petrov spoke Spanish.”  
  
“Fuck!” Max exclaimed. “Did he figure out you weren’t Alvares?” That could have blown their cover.  
  
“No. Stacy was very careful. She never broke cover. Not once. I can’t believe how well she played it. Linda or Raven or you couldn’t have done better. They never guessed. She was so careful, all the time, especially after…” He paused. “After I assaulted her. We still had dinner to get through that night.”  
  
Another sigh and he continued. “At that last meeting, we traded the money for the location of the weapons. Just like the plan. Petrov spoke to me in Spanish about his time in Cuba with the Soviet Navy and the girls he met there. Cuban prostitutes. Rough trade. Voyeurism. Bondage. And he needed to know I was on board with perversion. He had cameras in our bedroom, and we faked sex every night but that wasn’t enough. This time, I—we—had to make it look real. I texted Stacy to go to the pool in her bikini and wait for me. I used the danger signal, I called her ‘Chica.’” Every word he said made him feel dirtier.  
  
He looked up at the ceiling, then back at Max and Julia. “And she played it all the way. I literally ripped off her clothes and went at it. Still dressed. Shoes on. I didn’t penetrate her, but I…finished.” It was the worst sexual experience of his life. How had he even managed to get it up? He didn’t know. He was so disgusted with himself. “I’m pretty sure Mark was her only lover. She had no idea what to do, but she played it all the way. Totally in character, until she was away from the cameras, then she was crying, sobbing, huddled in a corner of the shower, still bleeding. She had a deep cut on her leg from where I shoved her into the lounger. Behavior exactly like what you’d expect from a rape victim.”  
  
“Jesus, Juan.” Julia didn’t know what else to say. Max shook his head. They knew the Chairman would do whatever it took, but this was a step beyond. This wasn’t the man they knew.  
  
“I’ve done some horrible things in my career. Things I’m ashamed of. We all have. But this is the worst. I hurt her. Badly. I may have destroyed their relationship. I could see signs after we left Petrov’s that Stacy was having problems.” He remembered the hotel room. “We wanted her to stay in Innsbruck, but she refused—after she identified the customs agent we saw at the arrivals area as one of Erlanger’s…contacts. She was afraid to stay in Innsbruck.” He remembered how she’d begged. “She still worked the mission. All the way. We had no idea how tough she is. She saved my life three times. Three times.” He still couldn’t quite believe it. “This could do permanent damage, and she’s out there, alone.” He stopped and paused, a long pause.  
  
Juan finally picked up again. “For us, this ship is home. It’s where we all feel safe. And Stacy took the first chance she could to get out of here. That’s what’s wrong. She must have left the ship right after she talked to Mark.” What the hell had Mark said to her?  
  
Max took it in for a moment, then got up to leave. “I’m going to go light a fire under Stoney. We’ll find her.” Turns out she was their responsibility after all.  
  
Julia said, “This explains why she was in shock—so fast and so deep. On the helicopter. I was so busy taking care of you, I just tried to keep her talking.”  
  
After Max closed the door, Juan turned to Julia. “There’s something else. I don’t want Max to know. I was so angry at Stacy. I don’t usually get angry, but I was…scary. The second night, it finally clicked. I went through her things. No birth control pills. No pads. She hardly ate anything before she came on the ship. You told me she wouldn’t take the seasick pills. She was so sick here, and it didn’t stop completely when we got off the ship. She was still careful about what she ate, and she threw up a couple of times. She wouldn’t drink alcohol. I think she told Petrov’s girls she was trying to get pregnant—it’s what I wanted, a son, why she was my mistress—so they didn’t push the drinking or the drugs.”  
  
“I confronted her, and she admitted it. I let into her and scared her half to death. I don’t get mad like that. She’s pregnant. So, when we were at the pool, she would have been scared of me to start with. And then I forced her.” Another deep breath. “Right before we left for Erlanger’s, at the hotel, I scared her again. She wouldn’t let me touch her.”  
  
Now, Julia looked poleaxed. “She’s pregnant!? My God. And she went on the op anyway? We don’t allow that. Ever.”  
  
Juan lay back on the pillow. “We don’t require our employees to do sexual assignments. Ever. Strictly voluntary. Always. We hardly ever take jobs that require it. None of the women who have taken sexual assignments for us have been in relationships. They’re all experienced, older. Everything Stacy isn’t.”  
  
“She’s had no operational training?”  
  
“None.” Juan was positive. He could account for all her time, from her childhood to the present, from the deep dive they’d done on her before they brought her to London. No gaps, no questions.  
  
“I can’t believe Murph would just walk away from her because she went on this op. Surely he wouldn’t abandon his baby.” Julia shook her head. Murph was a geek and a nerd, but he wasn’t a jerk. She thought.  
  
“Murph doesn’t know. He didn’t know when we were at Petrov’s and they can’t have been together since then that I know of. She wasn’t on the ship for very long after I came in hot last night.”  
  
Julia started, “He doesn’t—” She shifted in her chair as Juan cut her off.  
  
“She begged me not to tell him. She wanted to tell him herself. In person.” Juan remembered her white face. He’d guessed she’d been worried he wouldn’t want the baby.  
  
“She had plenty of time to tell him.” Now Julia was upset with Stacy.  
  
“No, Julia. She didn’t. I flat out didn’t trust her. I was expecting her to turn on us right up until she killed Erlanger. We—I—didn’t factor in how much she was still…angry…because of Erlanger’s daughter Anna being killed. Something she said in London. I didn’t process it until I heard she’d shot Erlanger. ‘Anna and Stacy made Anastasia. Two girls to make one person.' They must have been so close.”  
  
“From the moment we first contacted her, I wouldn’t let them be alone. I caught them in her bathroom the night Linda was in the hospital, clothes half off going at it. She was so embarrassed and disappointed she cried. Murph told me when we were prepping her for the mission. Until they were on the ship, I gave them no privacy. He wants to tell her something, but I doubt they were talking in his cabin before she got seasick.” He remembered the kisses he’d seen. “The way they were looking at each other! I thought their clothes were going to burn off. Stacy slept most of the time she was here, and he was working with Stoney. Or we were working on the cover details with her.” He smiled sardonically, “And Max and I both gave Murph an earful about keeping his hands off of Stacy and his dick in his pants until after the op.”  
  
“What are you planning to do?” Julia was still stunned.  
  
“I have no idea what to do. Obviously, we’ll pay for her medical expenses and therapy. What else can we do for her?”  
  
“We have to find her first.” Doc Huxley looked grim.


	15. Chapter 15

Stacy walked. She didn’t know where she was going or where she had been, but she kept walking. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate or drank anything. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion; all threatened to claim her, but she walked. She was afraid if she stopped she’d never get up again.  
  
The area around the airport was deserted at this time of night. All the upstanding, honest people were home in their beds, leaving only those up to no good roaming the streets. The two men saw the small person in a hoodie and rightly guessed it was a woman. As they got closer to her, they planned to take her purse—money, phone, whatever she had—and perhaps take their pleasure with her. One glance at her white face and the marks on her neck, and they kept walking.  
  
There was a spire in the distance, Stacy could see it. Maybe there would be a place to rest.  
\---------------------------  
Father Bastiani came at 5:00 am to open the church for early Mass. A woman in a hoodie was sitting on the steps, waiting. There were people outside the church most mornings, usually the homeless coming to beg.  
  
When he unlocked the door, the woman came in slowly behind him. She wasn’t steady on her feet—probably drunk. He couldn’t see her face, her head was down, but she dipped her finger in the stoup and crossed herself. She genuflected and sat in a pew in the back row. Since she didn’t appear to be a beggar or thief, he left her to her meditations.  
  
At the end of the day, Father noticed the woman was still sitting where she had been early that morning. It didn’t look like she had moved at all.  
  
“E ora di partire,” (It’s time to leave.) Father said. When she didn’t move or answer him, he repeated himself, louder. “E ora di partire!” His dinner was waiting.  
  
He could barely hear her answer. “Non ho nessun posto dove andare, Padre.” (I have nowhere to go, Father.)  
  
“Bene, devi andartene.” (Well, you have to leave.) There were agencies to deal with the homeless.  
  
“Si, Padre.” (Yes, Father.) Stacy tried to get up and leave the pew, but she was too weak and she fell. She could only lie there and cry.  
  
Stacy refused to go to the hospital. Father and the paramedics determined she was American, so Father called the American Embassy in Rome. When Father Bastiani’s housekeeper learned she was pregnant, she was more sympathetic to the girl. Then they both saw the marks on her neck and wrists and were sure she had been assaulted. She managed to keep down a cookie and some soda, but she only sat and rocked back and forth until a car came to get her and take her to Rome.

\------------------

“Miss Donovan, we’ll have a new passport for you later today. Do you need to replace your ticket? We can call your airline.” When the consular officer, Lauren, arrived in Trieste, the priest told her he thought Stacy had been assaulted. At the Embassy, Stacy saw a doctor. She refused a rape kit in spite of the marks on her body.  
  
“I don’t have a ticket. I don’t know where to go.”  
  
“Is there someone you can call to help you? Here or at home?”  
  
Stacy knew she’d never go to her house in Colorado again. And her father would be so angry with her! Forget that she was almost thirty years old and independent, she was pregnant and not married and that was not something he could accept.  
  
She started crying and said quietly, “My father is going to be so angry with me.” He'd be so disappointed with her. Stacy remembered the lectures he'd given her and Anna during their teen years.  
  
There were days when she hated her job. Lauren knew this could go either way. Sometimes, parents refused to help their children—they were tired of bailing their children out of their latest escapade, and finally hit the limit. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be one of those times. She had no idea what to do with Stacy if that happened.

\--------------------------

When the phone was ringing as he walked into his office, Art Donovan knew it probably wasn’t good news.  
  
“Donovan.”  
  
“Mr. Donovan, My name is Lauren Eislen. I’m a consular officer at the US Embassy in Rome. Your daughter is here and she would like to talk to you.” She handed the phone to Stacy.  
  
“Daddy, I don’t know where to go. What to do. I can't go back to Colorado. I don't have any money. Can I come home?”  
  
Art Donovan hadn’t expected this. He’d thought Stacy was still in Colorado, and she was in Rome? What the fuck? She must not have her phone; the Embassy had to call for her. No phone, no money? And she didn’t think she could come home?  
  
“Stacy, why do you think you can’t come home?” Art asked gently. She was his daughter. His only daughter. He’d always been more than a little overprotective of her. What the hell had happened to her?  
  
Stacy paused and started crying. “I’m pregnant, Daddy. I’m so sorry. I know you won’t want me now, either.”  
  
Won’t want her EITHER? Something was fucked up. Seriously fucked up. He might have to kill someone for taking advantage of his daughter.  
  
She sounded hurt and alone. “Oh, Stacy, of course you can come home. We’ll get you a ticket on the first flight out. Give the phone back to Lauren, and I’ll make the arrangements.” He thought to say, “I love you, Sweetheart. Everything will be okay. Just come home.”  
  
Lauren took back the phone and wrote down Art’s email address. She’d tell him what they’d found out and let him make the decisions Stacy needed now. Lauren didn’t think Stacy was in any condition to make them for herself.  
  
Home? Stacy thought. She didn’t have a home. She’d thought home was a person, not a place, after she’d met Mark. Now Mark was gone and she’d have to make a home for her child alone.  



	16. Chapter 16

Max came into Juan’s room two days later with news. “Stoney told me they finally found Stacy. She showed up at the American Embassy in Rome yesterday and they put her on a plane to New York. Her dad picked her up at JFK about an hour ago.”  


“Thank God,” Juan said. “Are we ready for the debrief? 

Juan came to the conference room slowly, escorted by Doc Huxley. He looked around at the people seated at the table. Maurice had prepared a selection of antipasti and iced tea since they were still off the coast of Italy. Juan did a double take. Mark Murphy wasn’t there. 

“Where’s Murph?” he asked as he sat down heavily.  


Silence.  


“Max? Stoney? Where’s Murph?” Juan asked firmly.  


After a pause, Eric looked at Juan. “He left. He caught a ride with Gomez, went to Rome, and took a flight to JFK.” Then he looked down at his laptop.  


“Max? Did you give him leave? Is he going after Stacy?” Juan was getting frustrated with his people not telling him what was going on.  


“No, I didn’t give him leave; he lied to Gomez to get off the boat,” Max admitted.  


“He didn’t go after Stacy,” Eric put in. “I checked just before we came in. He got a flight to Dallas.”  


“Excuse me, Chairman,” Raven asked. “What’s the big deal with Stacy? We aren’t usually so concerned about ancillaries.” Raven was put out that Stacy had influenced so many of Juan’s decisions in her favor.  


Juan had thought about this. “We’re here for the after action debrief. It would come up at some point, so let’s get it out of the way.” 

He looked at Max. “We had very few casualties, and few of those were serious. Linda broke her leg, I got shot. But the worst casualty was Stacy.” They looked puzzled and he continued, “Stacy was assaulted. At Petrov’s.”  


There was a moment of silence then the room exploded with comments. “Who?” “When?” “What happened?” “Why isn’t Murph with her?” “How could this happen?” Juan had to quiet everyone down before he could continue.  


“The details aren’t anyone else’s business. It happened on the fifth day; we left the next day for Innsbruck.” He looked at Linc and Raven, “Stacy wouldn’t let Linc put on her vest. Raven had to do it. She didn’t want to go with us on the raid at Erlanger’s, none of you wanted her there, I know. I didn’t, either, but she was more scared of staying in town alone. Terrified of being there alone. She recognized the customs agent and someone else at the airport on Erlanger’s payroll. She was afraid another one of Erlanger’s goons would be at the hotel. And most of them knew Anna Erlanger was dead, so it could have been a problem for us if they recognized her. These men were tipping off Erlanger in exchange for access to the sex. Interpol picked up ten of them two days ago. Almost the first thing Stacy ever told us in planning this op was that she was afraid Erlanger’s men would kill her.” Max nodded. He remembered that.  


“Raven, I know you didn’t agree with some of my decisions. I appreciate that you still followed orders. At the time, I felt Stacy deserved some leeway.” He looked around at his team. “Stacy could have…avoided…the assault, but we would have been made. They would have killed me and trafficked her. She played it out—all the way.”  


Chins dropped. It was an impossible choice, but the professionals around the table couldn’t have done more. Stacy allowed herself to be assaulted to save the mission. And their lives.  


“The plan we had for the op was heavily dependent on her intel. On top of that, she saved several of us at Erlanger’s house, helped round up those co-conspirators we didn’t know about, and she got me to the airport before I bled to death. Driving dangerously fast down the mountain in rain and sleet. We don’t have a way to pay her, either. Her bank accounts are closed.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I think we owe her big time. We should cut her a little slack.”  


That gave everyone something to think about. After a significant pause, the debrief continued. Later, as they broke up, Juan called Eric over for a private conversation.  


“Stoney, I need to know what’s going on with Murph. You’re the one on the ship he’s closest to.” Juan knew they were best friends. “I don’t want to abuse a confidence, but I need to know what’s going on.”  


Eric spent a few moments thinking about his answer. “Murph is really angry with her.”  


“Angry? Why?”  


“Yeah. Angry. He called her a ‘duplicitous little bitch.’ Duplicitous. He must think she lied to him, but I don’t know what happened for him to think that.” Eric took a deep breath. “He’s pretty angry at you, too. I don’t know why.”  


“Did he ever talk to you about his relationship with Stacy? I didn’t know anything about it before I showed you the picture.” It was hard for Juan to admit that he didn’t know something so important about his weapons officer.  


“Well…” Eric didn’t want to gossip.  


“I know. It’s gossip. But I think I need to know what you heard.”  


“He loved her. Really loved her. He has an engagement ring. I saw it by accident as he was packing to go to London.” Eric hadn’t let on to Mark that he saw the ring. He didn’t think Mark had told anyone.  


Shit. Holy fucking shit. This situation just kept getting worse, Juan thought. Mark got his girlfriend pregnant and she hadn’t told him. Mark wanted to marry his girlfriend but hadn’t asked her. He thought—what? Did Mark think Stacy had cheated on him by the pool? 

Shit. “Do you know where he went?”  


“I think he went home.”  


“Amarillo.” Mark’s parents and some of his siblings still lived in the area. “Yeah. I think he blames me for what happened to Stacy.” Juan had looked at the overwatch schedule Eddie made. Overwatch was someone who kept an eye on the location of the team in this type of infiltration operation. The infiltration team had a signal they would give if they needed assistance or evacuation. Murph was overwatch during the fifth day at Petrov’s. He must have seen the assault. “Is he answering your emails?” Juan asked. Maybe he could go through Eric and get Murph to New York.  


“He might. I haven’t talked to him. What do you want me to say?” Eric was willing to help, now that he knew what happened to Stacy.  


“Here’s what needs to happen, Stoney. Murph needs to go to New York to see Stacy. She needs to tell him what happened. I don’t think you should tell him about the assault. She needs to tell him herself.” And she needs to tell him about the baby. Juan ran his hand down his face. His stitches were starting to hurt, and he needed to lie down. “I don’t know what you should say. It has to sound like you, not me. I trust you to do the right thing.”

[Eric: The Chairman isn’t happy you went AWOL.]  
[Murph: I don’t fucking care.]  
[Eric: When are you coming back?]  
[Murph: Not sure I am.]  
[Eric: WTF?]  
[Murph: Not sure I want it anymore.]  
[Eric: Why not?]  
[Murph: I have a problem with Cabrillo.] Mark usually said ‘the Chairman.’  
[Eric: WTF?]  
[Long pause.]  
[Eric: Today I found out something happened to Stacy. Something bad.]  
[Murph: I don’t fucking give a fuck.]  
[Eric: You don’t want to know? I think you need to know. Important.]  
[Murph: What part of don’t give a fuck wasn’t clear?]  
[Eric: Why are you so mad at her?]  
[Long pause.]  
[Murph: She cheated on me.]  
[Eric: OMG! Are you sure?]  
[Murph: I saw it. She fucked Cabrillo. And they can’t deny it because I fucking saw it.]  
[Long pause.]  
[Eric: Murph, you need to go see Stacy. She’s in New York.] Eric was stunned. This could only mean the Chairman assaulted Stacy.  
What the actual fuck?!  
[Murph: Fuck no.] He didn’t think he could see her without raging at her. Just thinking about her was painful.  
[Eric: Look, I can’t tell you what I found out. Actually, I won’t tell you. But it’s really really really important that you go see Stacy.]  
[Long pause.]  
[Eric: You trust me, don’t you? Murph, it’s really important. You NEED to go. Please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important.]  
[Long pause.]  
[Eric: Murph?]  


There was no response.


	17. Chapter 17

It was good to have the apartment to herself. Her dad and Helen were wonderful, very patient and kind as she tried to put herself back together. It was nice to be alone and in her own mind for a while. It was so hard to be around people and concentrate. She couldn’t think straight or hold a conversation. To not have to pretend she was okay was a good thing.  
  
The doorbell rang. Stacy knew, whoever they were, they must be expected. No one got past their doorman. But who? The new dishwasher wasn’t supposed to be delivered until tomorrow. She didn’t think Dad or Helen had said anything before they left but she couldn’t remember things. She got up from the couch and walked slowly to the door. She opened the door and there was Mark Murphy. What was HE doing here?  
  
Mark looked at Stacy. She looked like hell. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She was still wearing pajamas and it was past noon. Her face was pale, and she looked…fragile. Dark circles under her eyes. Bruises. Thinner. Good. He wasn’t alone in suffering, then. Time to get it over with. Before she could react, he was through the door.  
  
Stacy’s mouth just gaped. What? Why? What more could he want from her?  
  
“Eric said I needed to come and see you,” he said coldly. “He said something bad happened to you and I needed to know about it.” He still looked really angry. Taking a step back from him, she visibly paled even further.  
  
Mark strode to the chair and sat down, radiating dislike and distaste.  
  
The door was all that was holding her up, but she had to let go and sit down before she fell. Two steps and she was on the floor anyway. She fainted.  
  
Mark just sat there. He knew she was a good actress; after all, she’d fooled him for a long time. She would figure out soon enough that he wasn’t going to take the bait.  
  
Two minutes later, she still wasn’t moving. What the fuck? He got up and nudged her with his foot. She moved a little and saw him. He couldn’t miss the flash of fear on her face. He sat back down.  
  
He wasn’t going to help her, obviously, so she tried to sit up slowly. Somehow, she got back to the sofa.  
  
“I don’t understand. Why are you here?” She sounded confused and wouldn’t look at him. Her arms were around her waist and she started rocking.  
  
“Eric. Stone. Remember him? He said something bad happened to you and it was important that I come see you. I’ve seen you and you’re still fucking alive, so it must not have been that bad.”  
  
“Eric? Something bad?” She was so confused. She couldn’t concentrate or hold a conversation with Dad or Helen. How could she have a conversation with Mark? She couldn’t eat or drink much at all and the hunger affected her stamina. She had so much muddled in her mind, and he was seriously taxing her understanding.  
  
“What happened to you? ‘Something bad’ is all Stoney would say. So, talk.” He sat back, waiting, unyielding, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
Something bad. It had to be the assault. But how did he know? Who told him? Before she even got back to the ship? She thought about possible scenarios, but the only thing she could say was, “I don’t understand what I did wrong. Why you…broke up with me.” It was what she kept coming back to as she processed the mission. Why did he want to end their relationship? And so hatefully? “Why are you so angry?”  
  
“When did you turn so stupid?” His tone was condescending and dismissive. “You know exactly what you did.”  
  
“I don’t. I really don’t know.” She looked up. The anger in his eyes was now almost hatred. She flinched.  
  
“Okay. To be clear: You fucked my boss. You. Fucked. Cabrillo. I SAW you do it. I trusted you, and you were screwing him. Who else were you fucking? Were you cheating this whole time?”  
  
She didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. Her throat was closed around a lump the size of an apple.  
  
“What I don’t understand is why you shot him. Was he not paying you fast enough? Or just not paying you enough? Did he dump you? Were you cheating on me the whole time?”  
  
Oh, God. “The pool?” she whispered.  
  
“The pool. I was overwatch then. I saw you.”  
  
A tidal wave of nausea rolled over her. The kitchen was closer. There wasn’t much in her stomach, and she heaved even after it was empty.  
  
Mark watched her run and heard her vomiting in the sink. He rolled his eyes. Still with the seasickness. Actress. She should have been an actress.

\----------------------

She hadn’t told anyone. Not Dad, not Helen, not the therapist they made her see yesterday. And now she had to tell Mark. Still woozy, she walked slowly back to the sofa. “The mission—"  
  
“What does that have to do with it? Except that you fucked him. Cheated on me. Lied.”  
  
“I don’t know where to start,” she whispered. It was still so hard to even think.  
  
“Answer this: why did you lie to me? We agreed you were going to keep the PDA to a minimum. No nudity. ACT like a mistress, not BE a mistress.”  
  
It clicked. ‘Duplicitous little bitch,’ he’d called her. He saw the encounter by the pool as consensual sex. She’d experienced sexual assault. Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around herself again and started rocking back and forth. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Juan texted me about halfway through the last meeting. The fifth day. There were suspicions—Petrov and his mistress were suspicious of our relationship. We had to convince them. Juan didn’t tell me what the suspicions were. He texted me to watch out; put on my bikini and head for the pool. Just chill there. He’d be out soon.” She swallowed hard and didn’t meet his eyes.  
  
“His next text was [I hope you’re ready for me, Chica. I’m ready for you.] Chica. That was the danger signal.” One tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
“I was sitting up, reading a book. He came out to the pool, took off his jacket, his tie. The look on his face—I couldn’t read it. It was so intense. Dark. He went behind me and dropped the back of the lounger.” Another tear. “And then he was on top of me, whispering in my ear. They were watching us. And this time, it had to really look like sex.” She was full-on crying now.  
  
She glanced at him then looked away. “There were cameras in the bedroom. If the lights were off, they couldn’t see anything, so we could go through the motions and make it look real for the morning. Mess up the bed without doing anything. They were watching everyone. One of the other mistresses really got off on it. Being watched.” She shuddered and was almost sick again. She had to stop until the dizziness passed.  
  
“I couldn’t fight it. I had to go along.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You were always so gentle and thoughtful when,” she paused and gulped, “when we made love. I didn’t really know about…that kind of sex.”  
  
She looked up again and wished she hadn’t. His eyes were still so critical. The love she had given him meant nothing now.  
  
“He hurt me.” She was really crying now. “He pinched me, bit me. Hard. I have bruises from his hands.” When the doctor at the Embassy saw the marks, he’d wanted to do a rape kit, but she’d refused. She wiped her eyes again. “He shoved me into the arm of the lounger. I have a cut on my hip.” She pointed to her left side. It had required ten stitches. Very quietly, she whispered, “He didn’t…penetrate me. But he…finished. It was so sticky.” Her voice rose almost hysterically. “I still feel it. I can’t wash it off.” She moved her hands to her belly and made motions like she was trying to rub something off. Her hands were shaking, and she had to consciously tell herself to stop.  
  
_“They were watching?”_  
  
She nodded. “I was so…exposed. Naked. I couldn’t just lie there and pretend it wasn’t happening. I had to pay attention to everything and play the part. Later that evening, one of the other Russians got me alone and said I looked like I was a ‘good ride’ and he’d pay me if I’d give him a turn. They were perverts. All of them.” She shuddered, remembering the man’s hands on her breasts. Another dizzy spell.  
  
“They were watching. You fucked him because they were watching.” That time it was a statement, not a question. She nodded. “What the hell?”  
  
“To finish the deal, to get to Erlanger, Juan had to…hurt me. If he hadn’t, it would have blown our cover. The mission… It was so important to you all to complete the mission.” She’d sacrificed herself for him and he hated her for it.  
  
Mark didn’t know what to say. “You weren’t cheating?”  
  
Stacy just cried and shook her head, ‘No.’ After a minute, she said softly, “I could never do that.”  
  
“But why did you shoot the Chairman?”  
  
“I didn’t.” She wiped her eyes again. “I shot some people at Erlanger’s house. I think Juan got hit with a ricochet.”  
  
“Why did you say you did? On the ship. You were walking toward me. You looked at me and said, ‘I shot him.’” Now Mark was confused.  
  
“I don’t remember what I said. Doc Huxley told me to keep talking. She wasn’t listening, just making me talk.” She moved her hands on her belly, trying again to remove something that wasn’t there. “I was desperate to get to you. I needed you. I was so cold. So scared.”  
  
She was looking at him now, her expression bleak. “I don’t remember much from the time we got Juan in the car until I saw you on the ship.” Her tone was anguished, and it cut him to the core. “I just wanted you to hold me.”  
  
They sat in uncomfortable silence. Mark stared off into space, not looking at Stacy until she spoke. It felt like the Earth had fallen out from under his feet. He was sick and dizzy.  
  
Finally, Stacy broke the spell. She whispered her next words. “I didn’t know.”  
  
“Didn’t know what?” he asked, and she was sure his tone still sounded dismissive and hurtful.  
  
It was really the end. Her voice was bereft of hope. “That you couldn’t love me anymore after this.”

Oh, shit. What had he done? He’d said the L-word. Love. He’d said that he loved her. He’d made love to her. And at the first real test of his love, he’d failed. He stopped thinking, stopped feeling, and he knew he was the biggest creep on the planet. Not really aware, he got up and walked out the door.  
  
She watched him leave, just walk away. The door closed and Stacy was bent double, sobbing, rocking, and that’s where her father and Helen found her, about an hour later.


	18. Chapter 18

Mark didn’t come out of his funk until his phone rang.  


“Where are you?” Juan asked from the back seat of the car.  


Mark looked up. He’d just walked, not thinking. He didn’t know where he was. He looked around and saw a sign, “Washington Square Park.” Sitting on a park bench. He didn’t know how long he’d been there.  


“Stay there. I’ll be there in ten.” Juan cut the connection. He tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Washington Square Park.”  


Mark wondered what the hell the Chairman was doing in New York.

The car pulled up at the entrance to the park. The driver would come back when he was called. He saw Murph sitting on a bench around the fountain that had been in several movies and walked over slowly. “Did you see Stacy?” Juan studied Murph, then sat beside him on the bench. Where there had been anger, he now saw devastation and heartbreak.  


Murph still stared off into space. “I almost didn’t come. My mom knew something was wrong when I told her Stacy was cheating. She couldn’t believe it. She’d met Stacy and couldn’t believe she’d do that. When Eric texted me, she said I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t come.”  


“So how is Stacy?”  


“She’s…upset.” That was an understatement.  


“I figured she would be. She told you about the pool?”  


“Yeah. I believe her—it wasn’t what I thought I saw.” Then something clicked and he turned on Juan. “How could you do that? How could you? You…assaulted my girlfriend! I trusted you!”  


“I know.” He knew. It still disgusted him. Juan bent over and looked down at his hands, clasped between his knees. “Murph, in my career, I’ve done some awful things. But this is the worst thing I’ve ever done. It was to keep us both alive. Or keep me alive and her out of white slavery. Petrov kept a stable of girls he bought and sold. The key to getting into Erlanger’s circle was…perversion. Sexual perversion. I thought it was going to be something with me and Petrov’s girls, but the test was MY mistress. Stacy.”  


They sat in silence for a while before Juan spoke. “Is that all you talked about?”  


“What else would there be? Isn’t it enough?” Mark was angry again.  


He still didn’t know. She hadn’t told him. ‘Fuck’ was the only thing that Juan could think of. Murph was his resident genius, and he was acting like he didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. “I don’t know. Maybe whether you’d begged her to take you back, you being such an asshole and all.”  


“I—shit,” Mark swore at himself. He’d just left. She’d been so sure he _didn’t_—**couldn’t** was what she’d said—love her anymore. And he’d just left her there, crying on the couch. “I didn’t even ask.” He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “I just walked out.”  


“Jesus, Murph.” Juan was ready to beat some sense into this kid. “Are you really that, I don’t know—clueless? Stupid?”  


“I didn’t realize I’d done it until just now. I was so upset with myself. I didn’t know what to think, or what to do.” How could he just walk away? Stupid!  


“How do you think Stacy feels right about now?” Juan asked gently.  


“I can’t even imagine. Hurt. Betrayed.” Mark thought about what she’d said and how she’d moved. Rocking, hugging herself like a frightened child. “Violated.”  


“Alone. Scared.” Juan looked at Mark. “And you know what else she did? Besides enduring that—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“She shot eight people. She got me off the mountain before I bled out.” Mark looked incredulous. “She saved the entire team. All of us. That shit’s hard for experienced operatives. Which she is not. Do you remember how you felt the first time you shot someone?” Juan remembered his first kill and he knew Murph remembered his first, too. It was on an op for the Corporation. “I don’t know that you can fix this, but you’d better try. She needs you.” He stood up. “Let’s go.” 

\----------------------

The trucks were in a warehouse in Vaduz. Carefully greased wheels had gotten them over the border with only a cursory customs inspection. When Michael Halpert opened and the movers began unpacking the first of the two trucks, he realized the scope of his problem. He only spoke English, a little German, very little French, and even less Spanish. The material was in German, French, Polish, Yiddish, and some other languages. Flemish, maybe? They would need someone who could translate this. Halpert called the _Oregon,_ and Max answered the phone.  


“Max, we have a problem.”  


Max knew Halpert was working with the things they’d taken from Erlanger’s house. “What? Is it customs?” They’d paid good money for those inspectors. “Didn’t we get everything out?”  


“The movers got everything out. But I can’t do this alone.” Halpert looked at the warehouse full of stuff. Computers, ledgers, boxes of documents. The volume of intelligence was staggering. “I’m going to have to hire someone. We may need more than one someone. I don’t speak any of these languages well enough to do this. I don’t know what to give to Interpol and what to keep.”  


“I’ll talk to the Chairman and we’ll figure it out.” Max disconnected from the call and dialed Juan. He and Mark were in the car headed to the Donovan’s apartment. Linc had gone to Art Donovan’s office.  


“What’s up, Max?” Juan answered on the first ring.  


Max got right to it. “Halpert says we need a translator to work on the material we took from Erlanger’s house. There’s too much of it for him to handle alone, and he doesn’t speak enough French or German.”  


Juan thought for a minute. “Shit. We need to get the intel turned over to Interpol before they come after us. That would compromise our side deal.” Juan had agreed to take the job for his customary fee. He would turn the intelligence they’d gathered over to Interpol, and anything else they found he could keep as a bonus. They would repatriate all the stolen property they could, and Juan had been sure there would be a substantial amount left over. But he had to deal with Mark and Stacy first.  


“You know who would do a good job with this.” Max wasn’t asking a question. He was stating a fact.  


Stacy. Stacy would be the perfect person to handle this assignment. Fuck.


	19. Chapter 19

Linc answered his phone. “Linc, I need you to do something.”  


“Me?” Linc asked Max. The corporation had a safe house and office in New York, and Linc was there waiting for Juan to come back from his errand.  


“We need Stacy Donovan. I think this might be better coming from you,” Max answered. He explained his conversations with Halpert and the Chairman. “She probably couldn’t handle the Chairman. You go talk to her.”  


Donovan-Petrie’s corporate offices were within easy walking distance from the Corporation’s office. Linc made the trip to Donovan’s office only to be told he was with his daughter at the hospital. Hospital? Why was Stacy in the hospital? From the assault? Linc grabbed a cab.  


\----------------------

He came off the elevator at the nurses’ station and asked for Stacy. The nurse directed him to her room, where he knocked quietly. He stuck his head around the door. “Stacy?” he called softly.  


Stacy looked up to see Franklin Lincoln standing in the doorway. She was lying with her head slightly raised, and she could see the door. “Mr. Lincoln? Please come in.” Linc walked toward the bed and she struggled to sit up. He’d teased her, but he’d apologized for it. She’d be alright if he didn’t get too close.  


“Hey. Just lie down. It’s okay. I can talk to you from there.” He pulled a chair nearer the bed and sat down. “How are you, Stacy? Are you doing okay?”  


She couldn’t tell him she was pregnant. He might tell Mark and now Mark could never know. “I’ll be okay. I was dehydrated.” It was the truth, just not the whole truth, and he could see the IV stand.  


“I know you’re on summer vacation, but are you planning to go back to Colorado? To your teaching job?”  


She thought for a moment. She’d already resigned from her job. She’d called her principal the day she arrived in New York. No need to hide from Erlanger anymore. Her grandparents were still in Colorado, but she couldn’t rely on them. They had moved from the ranch to a senior apartment in town. Her father wanted her to stay in New York, but she didn’t like the city. Too many people. “No, I don’t need to hide anymore. I want to be somewhere else.” Mark had been to her house. There were too many memories there—of him in her bed.  


That was a good start, Linc thought. Now, how should he play this? She looked like she needed to rest—the direct approach? “I don’t know what you’ll think about this, but we want to offer you a job.”  


She was taken aback. “A job? Me?” They’d done everything they could to discourage her and get rid of her. Juan had made it clear a pregnant woman wasn’t welcome to be part of their operations. She was still frightened by the thought of him. Not just because he’d assaulted her, but because he’d been so angry about her pregnancy. “You don’t want me to work for you. The Chairman was clear about that. Max never trusted me.”  


Yes, that was true. But this job didn’t involve their operational activities. “It’s not that kind of job. Let me explain. We need someone to do translation work on the material we took from the house. Our people can’t do it fast enough. They don’t have the language skills you have. And there’s a time limit—a deadline.”  


“A deadline for repatriation? It’s waited seventy years. What’s another six months?”  


“We need to get the intelligence we—you—found, the information about his networks and associates. We need to get it together and turned over to Interpol so they can act on it. Before the networks disappear and more people die. You’d be making a difference in people’s lives.” That was true, just not the entire truth.  


“What would I have to do?” Stacy knew she’d be bored if she didn’t have something meaningful to do but there were limits.  


“There wouldn’t be any danger. You would go to Liechtenstein and work through documents. It’s a very safe country, you’d have an office with a desk and a view. The first thing is to sort the criminal intelligence from the stolen property. It helps us that you’re a smart woman—you know what to look for. After you sort that out, you’d contact people and give them back their property. Verify their documentation. We’ll have someone else deliver the pieces when you clear them. It’s all office work. Nine to five. We’d pay for a place to live and you’d get a salary. And benefits.”  


The last question. The most important question. “Would I have to see Mark? Would he know?” Her voice was low and sad.  


Shit. What the fuck was wrong with that boy? “No, Stacy, not if you don’t want to. We only go to Liechtenstein if we need to do. And we won’t tell Mark you took the job if you don’t want us to tell him.” He felt sorry for her—he was sure she’d loved Mark, but he had no idea why Mark was being such an asshole to her. She’d been raped. Why would Mark dump her?  


“I don’t know…” she trailed off. She didn’t know. People in Liechtenstein had babies. She spoke the language fluently. She could start over there as well as anywhere else. “Let me think about it.”  


Linc stood up. “I hope you’ll consider it, Stacy. You’d do a good job with this and make things right for some people who have been waiting a long time.” He didn’t approach her to shake her hand. She probably wasn’t ready for that yet. “Think about it and let us know. But soon, please. I’ll leave a card here on the table. Call and let us know.” He took it out of his pocket and left it for her. “You should rest now.”


	20. Chapter 20

Helen opened the door at their knock. The doorman had let her know they were coming, and she was waiting for them.  


“We’re here to see Stacy, Mrs. Donovan,” Juan said, as politely as possible. Wait. Stacy had called her Dr. Petrie. "I'm sorry, Dr. Petrie. We'd like to see Stacy, please."  


“Who are you and why do you want to see Stacy?” Her voice was hard. So were her eyes.  


Juan elbowed Mark.  


“I’m Mark Murphy. Stacy’s boyfriend.” He tried to sound convincing.  


That brought raised eyebrows.  


“I’m Juan Cabrillo. Stacy was working for me.”  


Helen stared at them. “You’re lucky I answered the door. Arthur would have already killed both of you.” No hyperbole—she was stating a fact.  


“Ah. Yes,” Juan answered. “I don’t suppose you’ll let us see Stacy.”  


“I really don’t know. It’s not up to me—it’s up to Stacy to decide if she wants to see you.”  


“Could we ask her?” Juan sensed something else was going on but kept things very low key. It would not do to antagonize the gatekeepers of an already tense situation.  


“No, actually. She’s not here.” Helen folded her arms in front of herself. Her tone changed from hard to angry. “She’s in the hospital.”  


Neither man knew what to say. Juan was afraid something was wrong with the baby and wanted to get in some conversation before Mark found out about it from someone else. He would keep his promise to Stacy. “Murph, could you wait in the hall for a moment? Please?”  


The look Mark gave Juan was somewhere between disgust and defiance, but he turned and went out the door.  


“Is it the baby?” Juan asked quietly when the door closed. If something they’d done had hurt Stacy’s baby, he’d never forgive himself. “Is something wrong with the baby?”  


“You know about the baby? Stacy said no one knew.” Helen was surprised.  


“Mark doesn’t know. That’s why I asked him to step out. I guessed she was pregnant. When I confronted her, she begged me not to tell him. She wants to tell him herself. I can respect that.”  


Helen sighed. “She’s not eating. Nothing stays down. So, she’s dehydrated. I have no idea how long she’d been crying when we came home, but she was so dehydrated she wasn’t making tears. They’re giving her IV fluids. She was so upset.” Helen’s eyes narrowed. 

“We have no idea what happened to her. She won’t tell us anything except she’s pregnant and her boyfriend broke up with her. She’s seriously traumatized, we can see that—we just don’t know why. I don’t think she expected him to break up with her—it was a big shock.” 

She looked away. “The Embassy in Rome called us. She was at a church in Trieste, just sitting in a pew, and the priest called the Embassy after she’d been there for a day. He told the doctor she just sat there and cried off and on. The Embassy sent a car to pick her up. The doctor and I both think she was raped, but she wouldn’t let him do a rape kit.”  


She wouldn’t need one—she knew her assailant. “It’s my fault.” Juan looked away, then back. “There’s a limit to what I can tell you. It’s still an ongoing investigation. Interpol involved us in this. We flew Stacy to London to get intel from her on our target. I didn’t trust her, and I wouldn’t let Mark and Stacy be alone. I deliberately kept them apart. I run my company from a ship. Stacy was going to stay in Mark’s quarters once we were on board. She couldn’t do anything to blow our cover while she was there.” Helen frowned at him. “I was there when Stacy came aboard. The first thing they said to each other was ‘I need to talk to you.’ They were trying so hard to be alone, and they never got the chance. Stacy was so seasick the entire time.”  


“All day morning sickness. She still has it.”  


“The crew didn’t help the situation. A couple of them were giving Murph a hard time about having a girlfriend. Murph is a senior member of my staff. We were prepping the mission, and he was very involved in that. So was Stacy, when she could get out of bed.” Juan sighed. “She was trying to tell him she’s pregnant. He was going to propose. He has a ring.”  


“Oh, no! I had no idea they were that serious.” That was fast. A few months at most. It must have been intense, and maybe that was part of Stacy’s problem.  


“I didn’t know, either. He still loves her, I’m sure, but he has no idea what to do. I don’t know what we should do.”  


“WE shouldn’t do anything. Stacy and Mark have to work it out on their own.” Helen looked at her watch. “I was going to grab some things for Stacy, then catch a cab back to the hospital.”  


“Get what you need. We have a car waiting.”


	21. Chapter 21

Linc walked out of Stacy’s room and looked around. There was a waiting area in the direction opposite the one he’d come from. One man was sitting there looking at his hands. This had to be Stacy’s father. Linc turned and went back to the nurses’ station. After a brief conversation, he walked to the waiting room.  


“Art Donovan?” The hospital hallway was empty except for a few nurses at the nurses’ station. The room where Linc had found Donovan was otherwise empty. A TV played silently in the background.  


Art looked up from his reverie to see a huge black man in a suit and tie. “Yeah? Who wants to know?”  


“I’m Franklin Lincoln.” He held out his hand.  


“You were on Teams.” A statement, one SEAL recognizing another. Reluctant handshake. Art didn’t stand up.  


“Yeah. I don’t think we were ever on the same coast, though.” Linc smiled. He concentrated on being calm and friendly.  


“You work for Cabrillo.” Another statement. He’d called in some favors and found out who Stacy had been with in Italy. Art sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. Closed off. No trust.  


“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about Stacy.” Stay positive. Stay calm.  


Art stood up. From his posture, Linc could see Art was ready to take him on, right there. If Stacy was in the hospital because of what happened to her, Linc couldn’t blame him. It was exactly what he would do if Stacy was his daughter.  


“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened to her?” He’d better get a good answer. Stacy had been happy and vibrant before this happened. What she was now broke his heart.  


Linc tilted his head toward a bank of offices down from the elevator. “I asked the nurses. We can go down the hall. There’s a conference room. This isn’t for public consumption.” Linc stood back for Art to go first. After a hard look, Art started walking.  


They took seats at the small table. When the door was closed, Linc started, “I gather you knew Erlanger.”  


“Yeah. Slimy son-of-a-bitch. I didn’t want Stacy anywhere near him. But those girls were so close. It was worse if we separated them.” Art Donovan remembered the two little girls growing up together. And how devastated Stacy had been when Anna died.  


“What did you know about him? Employment wise?”  


“I knew he was a thug. Mean. Probably up to his eyeballs in something illegal. He came from money, but his family probably stole it. He sounded like a Nazi. His father probably was. An overall asshole.”  


“All true. He’d gotten into some more lucrative and dangerous activities than his usual criminal enterprises, though. He was taking drugs out of Afghanistan and investing the money in weapons sales to ISIS. Interpol brought us in. We were meant to stop it.” The op, in a nutshell, sanitized to keep it secure.  


“And?” Art had his arms crossed again.  


“We did. Largely because of Stacy.” Linc put his hands on the table in a placating gesture. It was easy for him to be calm and positive about this part of the story. He was proud of Stacy and how she’d held up under pressure.  


Art could only look at Linc. What the fuck? Stacy wasn’t in the business. What did she know about something like this?  


“Yeah. Stacy. We decided the best place to take Erlanger down was his house, he rarely left it, but how to do that we didn’t know. It was a fortress. Stacy put together the backbone of the plan—which worked—and she had a ton of intel on the target. She and the Chairman infiltrated his consortium—"  


“My daughter went on an op? A field op? You fucking assholes!” Art was enraged now. He slapped his hands down on the table and jumped up, almost knocking over the chair. They’d endangered his pregnant daughter. Someone needed a beat down and Art was prepared to administer it.  


Linc had to calm him down or he’d get no further. He motioned for Donovan to calm down. “We hadn’t planned on her being this involved. We did everything we could to minimize the danger. The Chairman was against letting her in this far, but she volunteered when our team member broke her leg.” Linc gestured for Art to calm down. “Because of Stacy’s… professionalism, we got an invitation to Erlanger’s house to conduct business. At the takedown, she saved my life—all of us on the team. She shot eight people. Fast. Accurate. You or I couldn’t have done better.”  


No surprise that Stacy could shoot, but “Eight people? She SHOT eight people? My daughter took fire? You exposed her to that?” His little girl shot eight people? This wasn’t good news. The op had had a firefight and Stacy could have been killed. Killing people, even very bad people, had emotional consequences. So she was pregnant, her boyfriend dumped her, and she’d taken eight lives. Fucking assholes!  


“She wore a vest and we had her covered with our best agents. I was there, ready to take a bullet for her, but she saved my life instead. Without her intel, we wouldn’t have made it in, and we definitely wouldn’t have made it out. She shot four of Erlanger’s goon squad before we got in the perimeter. We were covering her, and she ended up covering us. We were expecting six guards, tops, and there were nine. The couple that worked for him, the Schmidts? She took them out before they got me and my partner with a shotgun and an AK. They were both in on Erlanger’s business.”  


He was still livid. “Not a surprise. Erlanger was…secretive. And the Schmidts were nasty.” He’d heard about them from Stacy—and Anna. Stacy didn’t know about some of the conversations he’d had with Anna while Anna was staying with them, and please God she never would.  


“You have no idea.” At Art’s look, Linc said, “Let’s talk about it later.” Art nodded his acceptance of that offer.  


“The last two?” Who else would Stacy have shot?  


“This tall blonde dude. Looked like Dolph Lundgren. Wolfgang Gerhard. Stacy said he’s the one that killed Anna. He had a vest, I don’t know how she knew, so she shot him in the head. And then Erlanger himself. They had the drop on us. They were on opposite sides of the room, then pop, pop,” he motioned the two shots in opposing directions, “and they were done. She saved the Chairman personally, driving him off the mountain in the pouring, freezing rain to get him to the doc. He took a ricochet under the vest. We still don’t know how she managed that drive. She must have been going about a hundred miles an hour down those mountain roads. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.”  


“Was it worth it? Was it worth almost getting my daughter killed?” The anger! His voice was hard and uncompromising. Art knew The Corporation was in business for the money. That made what happened to Stacy worse. She’d sacrificed herself for their profit.  


“Eighty people in five countries. Four shipping containers of weapons, mostly stolen American weapons, and two shipping containers of art looted by the Nazis. Forty kilos of heroin, two hundred kilos of raw opium, and a drug lab. Intel on networks all over Europe and the Middle East. And some women and children who were being trafficked. There will be more arrests, we're sure.” Linc looked steadily at Art. “It's always a balancing act, you know that. What we do. There are personal costs. But, yeah, I think so. She made things better for a lot of people. ”  


Linc’s phone vibrated. A text. Linc stood up, indicating they were done for now. They’d go out and meet the Chairman. He was here with Mark.  


Linc had the last words: “Donovan? Your daughter is a badass.”


	22. Chapter 22

They went back out to the waiting area. Juan, Mark, and Helen arrived at the same time.  


If looks could kill, Juan knew he’d have been dead. Incinerated. He held out his hand anyway, “Juan Cabrillo.”  


Donovan looked at it coldly before taking it and making a power move, trying to crush Juan’s hand. “Art Donovan. You’re the asshole I have to thank for this disaster?”  


Well, it was rude but not fatal. “I’m sorry for how this has turned out, but yes, I am.”  


Donovan looked Juan up and down, settling on his eyes with a disgusted look. “I checked you out. I thought you people were competent.” Insult intended.  


“I’m sorry. I wish it could have ended differently for Stacy. I count her as the only casualty of the mission. She was brave—so brave—and selfless and she busted her ass to make it work. Most of us would be dead if she hadn’t worked with us. She’s amazing.”  


Art looked at Mark, who was standing to the side. “Who are you?”  


“I’m Mark Murphy. Stacy’s boyfriend.” Art Donovan’s face told him he’d said the wrong thing. The way Stacy had looked when he was at the apartment, Mark knew he was in for it.  


“Don’t you mean EX boyfriend?” Art said coldly. This was the asshole that got Stacy pregnant and dumped her. Death was too good for him.  


Mark flushed an ugly shade of red. “I’m hoping to fix that, if she’ll take me back.” He tried to sound confident.  


Art knew Stacy was pregnant, and he knew Mark didn’t know. Helen had texted him before they got to the hospital and insisted he keep that fact to himself. “This is against my better judgment. If it was up to me, I’d beat the shit out of you until you were a greasy spot, but I suspect Helen and Stacy would not approve.” When he and Helen had come home, Stacy had barely been able to tell them Mark had been there before she fainted. When they couldn’t wake her up, they took her to the hospital. He took Helen’s hand, and they looked at each other, then he looked back at Mark. The look was hard and unyielding. “Know this—if you upset her again like you did this morning, I will end you. Right here, right now.”  


Now Mark paled visibly. Everyone knew Art Donovan was a former SEAL, and perfectly capable of making that happen. From what Stacy had told him, Mark knew Art was also fiercely protective of his daughter, so this wasn’t an idle threat.  


“She may be awake,” Helen said. She looked as angry as her husband. "Go on in.” Art led Helen over to the chairs and sat down. He crossed his arms and glared at the other men.  


“Murph, wait,” Juan called. Mark turned, and Juan handed him the engagement ring he’d bought for Stacy. How the hell did the Chairman know about it? Mark nodded his thanks and went in.


	23. Chapter 23

Her typical hospital room was dark—the lights were off, and the window curtains closed. Stacy was lying on the bed, and it looked like she was asleep. Mark pulled the chair close to the bed and sat, watching her. Finally, she moved, coming awake slowly. “Stacy?” he asked softly and moved to stand by the bed. She jumped and flinched away from him, fear in her eyes. She was afraid of him! He couldn’t help but see her emotions and he felt even worse about what he’d done. How was that even possible?  


“Hi, Stacy,” he said softly.  


“How long have you been here?” Her voice was hoarse, and he’d really scared her. What else did he have to say? He’d already done and said everything he could to excoriate her. Did he want his hoodie back? It was all that was left.  


He looked at her steadily. “Don’t know.” His eyes never left hers. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”  


What? She just stared at him. He didn’t seem angry. What did he want?  


“Do you need glasses?” she finally asked. What the heck? He’d been very clear that they were done. Over. And now he was here telling her she was beautiful? Why didn’t anything make sense?  


“No, I mean it.” Mark wanted to convince her he had been wrong about what happened, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He went with his feelings. “You’re so beautiful. I love you.”  


More staring. She must be hallucinating. “You said that before,” she whispered, and her voice carried her pain. How could he mean that? He’d ended their relationship because of her assault. She couldn’t look at him anymore. It hurt too much to see him and know he hated her. Why was he doing this?  


“I meant it every time I said it, and I mean it now. I never stopped loving you. I just got so jealous, because I love you so much. I was wrong. I should have trusted you.” He leaned over and reached for her hand, stroking the back, then turned it over. She didn’t pull away from him. His thumb rubbed her palm, and her fingers curled around him. It seemed like she was about to cry, so he tried to calm her down. Her father wasn’t an idle threat. “Stacy? Please don’t cry. Please? It’s gonna be okay.”  


He tenderly cupped her cheek in his other hand and gently moved her head until he was looking into her eyes. “Hey. I never stopped loving you. I didn’t know what really happened. I was hurt and angry and I took it out on you. I’m so sorry. I know I hurt you and I’m so sorry. Please, please, will you forgive me? I know I don’t deserve it, but I love you so much. I’m so sorry.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “I don’t have the right to ask. I was so stupid, and I hurt you. Can you still love me? Even though I’m an asshole?” He looked like he might cry.  


More silence. More staring. Now was the time to make her choice. She could believe he was sorry, that he still loved her, or not. He meant everything to her. Maybe this would work.  


She finally nodded. Yes, this time. She still loved him. How could she do anything else? “Help me sit up,” she said softly. Without looking away from her, he pushed the button until she was almost at his eye level. He wasn’t waiting another minute. His eyes never left her face.  


“Stacy, will you marry me?” His voice was earnest and sincere. Finally, he would get his answer.  


Whatever she thought he was going to say, this wasn’t it. She could only continue to stare at him, dumbfounded.  


“I bought a ring for you before you came to London. I didn’t bring it with me when I came over this week, but the Chairman brought it. I don’t know how he knew.” He pulled it out of his pocket. “I could never get you alone long enough to ask you. When you weren’t throwing up, anyway.” He smiled through tears. Her seasickness was now legendary among the _Oregon’s_ crew.  


She tried to speak but nothing would come out, so she nodded ‘yes.’ A tear slid down her cheek. She held out her hand and he slipped the ring on her finger.

“Kleenex,” she finally croaked. Mark handed her the box. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.  


She looked at him intently. Now was the time. “It wasn’t seasickness.”  


Mark looked puzzled. “Then what was it?”  


Her eyes never left his face. “I’m pregnant. It was morning sickness. All-day morning sickness. The ship just made it worse. I couldn’t get you alone long enough to tell you.” Her voice broke on the last sentence and she was crying again.  


That was all it took. Mark didn’t think, he just grabbed her and pulled her into his embrace. “I love you so much, Stacy.”  


“I love you, too. Even if you are an asshole.” 


	24. Chapter 24

The nurse made Mark leave an hour later when she came in to change Stacy’s empty IV bag. Before Mark could come back, her dad came in, her brother Nick with him. Nick had driven up from Washington to see her. She hadn’t seen Nick since Christmas and they took a few moments to catch up before he started his argument.  


“Married, Stace? Aren’t you rushing things a bit? You don’t think it’s too fast?” Nick asked. He didn’t know Mark and he sure didn’t trust him, not after what his dad told him.  


“You know I’m pregnant, right?” In their family, pregnant equaled married.  


“Yeah. But Helen won’t let me kill him.” Her dad was serious. Nick nodded. He felt the same way.  


“Why wouldn’t I marry Mark?” Stacy’s head was clearer now, thanks to the intravenous fluids, but this confused her.  


Her dad took a deep breath and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you don’t have to get married just because you’re pregnant. And maybe now Erlanger’s gone, you’ll move to New York to be closer to us.” Art smiled, a real smile. “I’d like to be close to my first grandchild.”  


After a few more minutes of uncomfortable conversation, Juan poked his head in the door. “Could we have a minute with Stacy?” Her dad and brother left, grudgingly, and Juan came in with Linc. They’d told Linc Stacy was pregnant. His reaction was like everyone else’s. She’d gone on the op in her condition? Now he wondered about the advisability of the job offer.  


“Stacy, you don’t have to marry Mark. It will be okay if you don’t,” Linc started. When she opened her mouth to give him another lecture (like the one in London), he forestalled her. “No, I’m not teasing. I’m serious. And you don’t have to take the job.” Linc looked at the Chairman out of the corner of his eye. He felt a little uncomfortable that he’d asked her to work for them.  


“We owe you an enormous debt, Stacy,” Juan said quietly. "We were paid for the Erlanger job. Very well. And you were working for me, so you get a share. But more than money, I owe you my life. You may not realize you saved my life three times.” He continued, uncomfortable and unsure of what to say. “We need to know you are taken care of. I need to know you are taken care of. You took care of us, and we want to take care of you. Don’t feel that you have to be married for that to happen. And you don’t have to take the job, either.” He looked back at Linc as if to say, ‘Sorry I had you do that.’  


What the hell was up with these people? Stacy wondered. Money. Debts. There was something much more important to her.  


“Chairman, I have only one thing to ask.” She was very quiet and very serious.  


“Anything, Stacy,” he replied. If she wanted his head on a pike, he’d figure out a way to give it to her.  


For Stacy and Mark, their entire relationship to this point had been a juggling act. Mark worked on a ship. They were lucky to get a day here, a weekend there. They usually met in the middle between Denver and wherever Mark was at the time. She had no idea how he would manage to be a father, or even just be there when their baby was born. “I can’t compete with Mark’s job. I can’t compete with you. You’ve all done so much. I’m not,” she couldn’t think of a word, “special. Exciting. I can’t compete with Mark’s life with you. Will you share? Please?” Her voice was plaintive, begging, like she would cry. She needed Mark now, and his presence would be more important in the future. She would try to get along with a part-time relationship, but it would be tough.  


“Will I what?” Juan was confused. He had no idea what she meant.  


“Share. Share Mark’s time. Mark loves his job. I know that. And I know I’m not first with him—you are. I could never ask him to leave the Corporation. Eventually, he’d resent me and whatever life we had.” She looked down. “I don’t think I could live with myself if that happened.” She looked up again. “So, will you please share? Let me have some of his time?”  


Juan was struck dumb. She wasn’t demanding Mark quit his job. She wasn’t giving Juan the rebuke he deserved. She honestly thought she took second place with Mark, and she loved him anyway. There was only one thing he could say.  


“Of course, Stacy. I promise—my word of honor—we’ll work it out, so Mark gets as much time with you as possible.”  


Linc had talked with Max on the way to the hospital. He looked at Juan and Juan nodded. “Stacy, you don’t have to take the job. We hope you will. We’d like to give you more time, but we just don’t have it. Let us know soon. You’d be closer to Mark if you worked with us. We could arrange more time for you two to be together.”

Before Stacy could answer, Helen stuck her head around the door. “My turn!” Juan and Linc left, and Helen came in. “I wanted to talk to you, girl to girl. I know I’m not your mother, but you know I love you.” Helen looked serious, concerned, almost afraid.  


Stacy was worried now. What was up with everyone? Her dad, Helen, her brother, Juan, Linc. Had they all gone insane? Now that Mark knew everything, now that she’d forgiven him, now that he’d proposed, it seemed like no one wanted them to be together.  


Helen walked up to the bed and took Stacy’s hand. “Stacy, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do anything. Sex isn’t everything. We’ll help you take care of the baby. You can teach, work for your dad, stay home, whatever you want to do. You don’t have to get married if you don’t want to do. You don’t have to take him back. You know your dad and I will help you. Whatever you need.”  


Damn these pregnancy hormones! She was crying again, hurt that her family and Mark’s coworkers were so against their relationship. “You don’t want me to marry Mark? Dad told me this, Nick told me this, Juan told me this, Linc told me this, now you. ‘I don’t have to get married if I don’t want to.’ I think you put Nicholas up to asking me if I thought I was rushing into something. I don’t understand. Don’t you like Mark?” Now she was angry, too, and still crying. “Do you not think I’m old enough to get married? Have a family? I’m almost 30 years old, for God’s sake! I just don’t understand!” She was ugly crying now.  


“Stacy, you started seeing this guy, what, three months ago? Before school was out, and you started working with these people. That’s awfully fast.”  


“THREE MONTHS? You think we’ve only known each other for three months? I’m almost four months pregnant!” Her voice was incredulous and louder than it’d been in weeks. Stacy stopped crying. She was really angry now. She reached for the Kleenex box and blew her nose. “Would you ask everyone to come in here, please? I know they’re all out in the hall.” She used her teacher voice. Full force.  


Helen knew that voice. She occasionally used it herself, so she got up and went to the door. “Stacy wants to see you all,” she said softly. Helen didn’t want to upset Stacy, but they had to convince her not to rush into something she would regret. Art was the first one in, followed by Mark, then everyone else. She heard her father stage whisper, “Were you able to talk her out of it?”  


Mark came to stand by the bed, and she held out her hand for him to hold. He took it like it was a lifeline and squeezed it gently as he looked in her eyes. For him, it was. He’d spoken with his mother again, and she’d reminded him how he felt about Stacy before the mission. His mother reminded him of the things he’d told her about how important Stacy was in his life. He’d told her what had happened to Stacy and that Stacy was pregnant. He was so thankful that his mom had insisted he come to New York.  


Now that Stacy had an audience and a full head of steam, she was in charge. “Okay, people. I’m going to go through this one time and one time only. She looked at Mark. “Do you still want to get married?  


“Hell, yes! Soon.” Big smile for Stacy.  


“Dad, Juan, how long do you think we’ve known each other?” she asked, looking between them.  


“What, three months?” her dad replied.  


“I was guessing four,” Juan said. "Maybe five. Maurice said he'd met you two weeks before we Skyped with you." That was when they started looking into Erlanger.  


“Three months? Four months?” Stacy addressed the group, then turned to Mark. “Where and when did we meet?”  


“On the plane to Las Vegas, three years, ten months, and” he paused and looked at his watch, “nineteen days ago. I bought her engagement ring six months ago. I just hadn’t had a chance to ask her in person.” He squeezed her hand again and smiled at her. There were some great memories in those times.  


Stacy looked at her dad. “Dad, I’m almost four months pregnant. I know I told you, like, a year ago, that I’d met a guy. That guy was Mark. Did you forget that?”  


Her dad had the grace to look sheepish. “I guess you did. Tell me, that is. I did. Forget. I didn’t realize that guy was Mark.” Her dad gave her one of his patented suspicious looks. “I don’t remember you ever told me his name.”  


Stacy gave him a look back. “I didn’t tell you at the time on purpose. You are SO overprotective. I knew you’d have investigated him with every contact you have and tried to warn him off. So, I kept it low key. But we’ve been dating for almost four years. Four YEARS.” She looked at Mark again. “When did your brother get married?”  


“Two and a half years ago.” Mark looked at everyone. “I took Stacy to the wedding and she met my family then. They love her.” He smiled at Stacy. “Mom’s thrilled about the baby. She’s probably called everyone she knows. Bragging.”  


“So, I’m overprotective. You’re my little girl.” Art folded his arms. “Were you ever going to introduce us to Mark?” He gestured to himself and Helen.  


“Yes, but not until I knew if we were really serious. Engaged, maybe.” She sighed and seemed to change direction. “Helen, I knew you and Dad were right for each other before you and Dad knew it. I introduced you to each other.” She wiped her eyes. “I knew Mark was the one for me during that week in Las Vegas four years ago. I didn’t stop loving him through this, and that’s what made me so unhappy.” She turned to look at him and smiled. “I want to marry Mark.” He squeezed her hand again.  


“How did you two meet?” Linc asked. Murph had been dating Stacy for four years? Damn! The boy could keep a secret!  


“She stuck her tits in my face,” Mark laughed, and she smacked him playfully. They were looking at each other and didn't see Art's thunderous expression.  


“I was going to a special education training course in Las Vegas. A week of intensive classes from this company headquartered there. I got up at about two A.M. to get to the airport in Denver in time for my flight. And it was oversold.” She laughed. “Silly me, I thought, ‘I’ll just get on the next one.’ After the next two were also full, I was getting frustrated, but not as upset as this other guy who got bumped. The gate agent almost had to call security; he was so nasty to her.” She paused and took a cautious sip of water. “Between boardings, I went and got a cup of coffee.”  


“You and your coffee!” Helen exclaimed. Stacy was famous for loving coffee. It should have been a tip-off to Mark that something was wrong when she had tea instead of coffee in London.  


“It’s a good thing I did. I got a coffee for the gate agent, too. I was trying to be nice about everything. She looked like she was going to cry when I handed the coffee to her. It was just a cup of coffee, but when the next flight came in, she called me up. There was one seat left, in first class, and she upgraded me and got me on the plane before Nasty Guy figured it out.” Stacy looked at Mark. “I was putting my case in the overhead, and this guy in the aisle seat turns and,”  


“She stuck her tits in my face.” Mark just loved saying that. He’d be saying it when they told their grandchildren the story. “We talked the whole way to Vegas. Stacy was easy to talk to and didn’t think I was too much of a nerd. I found out we were going to the same hotel, so I asked if she’d like to share my car.”  


“I said yes.” Her dad scowled at her. “It was a company I’d actually heard of, Dad, and I texted Grandma, and then we were at the check-in desk together. He let me go first, and, of course, they had lost my reservation. I had the confirmation email and showed it to them. Too bad. They were full. And way too busy to help me find another hotel.”  


“I remember Stacy looked really disappointed.” He looked closely at her. “I thought she was going to cry. She was calling around, but the hotels were full. There were, like, four big conferences that week. Tons of people.” He looked at Juan. “I checked in, and, Chairman, you’d reserved a suite because Linda was going to come, but she didn’t. It was that gun show thing.” He looked back at Stacy. “I have no idea how I got up enough nerve, but I asked her if she’d like to share my suite.”  


“That was so kind of Mark,” Stacy smiled. Then she laughed at her father’s almost apoplectic expression. All the safety lectures he’d given her! “It didn’t sound like a pickup line. The guy at the desk assured me the bedroom doors locked. Separate bathrooms. And I have no idea why I agreed to it, Dad. The, what, the second night?” she asked Mark, “I was at the desk, doing my homework, and you had all that stuff laid out on the coffee table.”  


“I was playing with a design for something for the ship, and I started thinking out loud, like I do with Stoney. What if I did X?” He wasn’t laughing now and his voice quieted, “And she answered me. She answered the question. I’m not sure Stoney would have known how it would work like Stacy knew.” He looked at Stacy, still holding her hand. “I think that’s when I fell in love with you.”  


“Cheyenne Wells and Hugo aren’t exactly hotbeds of single men, and always, all my life, once guys figured out I was smart, that was it. They couldn’t run fast enough. Except Mark. He’s happy I’m smart.” She looked at Mark. “I fell in love with you when you let me teach you how to dance.” One evening they had gone out to a show with a band, and couples were dancing.  


“I didn’t know how to dance, so Stacy led, and I learned how to foxtrot and waltz. It was so much fun. Whatever we do, we always have a good time.” He smiled at her and squeezed her hand.  


“How come I never knew this?” Juan asked, again more than a little put out. He prided himself on knowing what went on in the lives of his crew, whether they knew it or not; as much as he could without out-and-out spying on them. It helped him take care of them. And how had Maurice missed this gossip?  


“I didn’t even tell Stoney I had a girlfriend until about a year ago. And I downplayed it. I didn't tell him how serious we were. Stacy and I emailed and texted all the time. I got tired of getting teased about my lack of success with the ladies. So, I kept it quiet.” He looked at her and smiled again.  


“Did you tell her what we do?” Juan was pissed but now understood why Stacy hadn’t been very surprised by the things the Corporation did.  


“Never. Never said a word about it.” Mark shook his head. He’d used their cover—he was security for their small shipping company.  


“I’m smart, remember?” Stacy said sardonically. She pointed at Art. “And my dad owns a private security company. I know the drill. Duh. I figured it out all by myself. About three and a half years ago. I just never asked him any questions. I knew he couldn’t tell me anything.”  


Juan ran his hand down his face. He was going to have to rethink his security protocols.  


“And no, Cabrillo, she is not going to go to work for you,” her dad spat out. This statement came out way more forcefully than anyone expected. Even Helen was taken aback.  


“Dad!” Stacy admonished.  


Her dad, her tough-as-nails, former SEAL dad, looked like he was about to cry. “No. Absolutely not.” At their puzzled looks, he continued, “On her deathbed, I promised your mother I would keep you out of this business. I barely got there in time to see her before she died. The only thing she asked me—begged me—to do. Just keep you out of it. I’ve done everything, everything, I could do over the years to keep that promise. Don’t think for one minute I am okay with you working for him.”  
That quieted the room.  


“I don’t get it,” Linc asked, after a significant pause.  


Stacy answered. “My great grandfather was in the OSS. Grandma and Grandpa, Dad’s parents, were both in the CIA. Dad was a SEAL. Alex is a SEAL, and Nick works for Dad now. Intelligence is kind of the family business,” Stacy explained. She continued softly, “I never knew that, Dad.”  


“I thought Helen was your mom,” Linc said.  


“Helen is my stepmom. Anna,” Stacy choked a little thinking of her friend, “Anna and I both had Helen as a professor in our first year at Smith. We both knew right away she would be right for Dad. It took a couple of years to get them together, but they got married after I graduated.” ‘I’ graduated—not ‘we.’ Anna was dead by then. “We were right, obviously.”  


Stacy yawned. She needed to rest, so Mark stood up and started moving the others to the door. He had the right to take care of Stacy now. “Okay, everyone out. Please.” He didn’t leave, and the door closed behind the group. Finally, they were alone again. “Is there room up there for me?” Stacy turned on her side and scooted over. Spooned together, they fell asleep.


	25. Chapter 25

“Our little boy is all grown up,” Linc said. He and Juan were sitting in the back of the car they’d hired for their time in New York.  


“We’ll have to work out a way to keep him." Juan shook his head. "She can’t compete with us,” he repeated Stacy’s words. He looked out the window, seeing nothing. “I can’t believe she said that. I don’t know how we can compete with her. He’s a lucky bastard—someone to come home to. Someone we don't have to lie to about our job.”  


“It’s why none of us are married. No one can handle the separation.” Linc sighed. How many guys had he known who had gotten a ‘Dear John’ letter?  


“My wife couldn’t handle it.” Linc looked surprised. He knew the Chairman was married and knew she had died. “Yeah. When I was with the CIA, she became an alcoholic and died driving drunk.”  


Linc took that in with a look of sympathy. After a minute he said, “I cannot imagine Murph as a dad. That kid is going to be off-the-charts smart."  


"Goth baby clothes? Thank God Stacy has some sense." Juan laughed. "Scary smart. And maybe she’ll take the job." 

"Just keep her off the ship,” Linc said. At that, they both laughed.

\-------------

“You’ve had this ring for six months?” Stacy asked, looking at the diamond on her hand.  


Mark sighed. “It took me a while to get up enough nerve to buy it. And we were together only twice in those six months. I forgot it the first time. And we just didn’t get around to it the second time." They'd spent their time in Los Angeles making love. "I didn’t want to Skype propose, either.” He probably should have, though. It would have solved some problems. Speaking of problems… “Linc said they offered you a job. Do you want to take it?”  


“I don’t know. I want to be with you, but I can’t be on the ship. We need to get settled before December.” The baby was due in December.  


He moved his hand and placed it over their baby, now a small bump, then kissed her cheek. “Los Angeles?”  


She blushed, thinking of the urgency of their lovemaking that day. She’d flown there for a week and they’d fallen right into bed. It was like an interlude out of an erotic novel. Their need had been intense and the emotions deep. “Yeah. Spring break. We didn’t use a condom.” She blushed, thinking of the lingerie she'd worn and how she’d screamed his name. The orgasm had been so profound—she knew then Mark was the other half of her soul.  


“No, we didn't. And we only had two hours. I had to leave too soon.” He kissed her again and hugged her closer. Los Angeles wasn’t the first time he’d said ‘I love you,’ but it was the first time he understood what that love really meant. It was always hard to leave her, but that time had been gut-wrenching. He’d even cried.  


She rolled over carefully and kissed him back. She smiled. “We always have a good time.”

\-----------------

Juan pulled out his cell phone and called Mark. Short and to the point. “Murph.”  


“Chairman.”  


“When does Stacy get out of the hospital?”  


“Tomorrow.”  


“Several things. First, I know Stacy has a doctor, but if you need to talk to Doc Huxley, just call. Anytime. She asked me to tell you that.”  


“Tell her 'thank you' for me.”  


“Second thing. When Stacy gets out of the hospital, where are you going?”  


“Back to Art and Helen’s house. Their spare room.” Mark didn’t sound excited about that.  


“Why don’t the two of you go to the safe house? You’ll be the only ones there. Linc and I are going to head back to the _Oregon_ soon. We’re going to a hotel until then. I think you two could use the time alone.”  


Mark paused and thought about the offer. He and Stacy needed to talk. They needed to figure out how their relationship had changed and would change. They needed to talk about Stacy’s job offer. Most importantly to Mark, they needed to make love. And that would be awkward with his future in-laws in the other room.  


“Chairman, I really appreciate the offer. I think we’ll do that. Stacy wasn’t looking forward to moving in with her dad.” And neither was I, he thought.  


“Murph. I don’t want you back on the ship until you and Stacy are good.”  


“Good?” Mark didn't understand.  


“She needs to feel safe. Secure. Stay with her until she does. About everything. EVERYTHING." Mark didn't say anything. "Sex, Mark. Your relationship. Your job will be waiting. And if she takes the job we offered her, you’ll get her settled in Liechtenstein. Stacy comes first right now. Expect a few deliveries tomorrow. You won’t have to go out for food.” Juan smiled. Food? Yeah. They would need to eat, but that probably wasn’t the first thing on their minds right now. He smiled. He remembered when he and his wife were young and first married. And Mark probably couldn’t cook, if his fondness for canned pasta rings was any indication.  


“Oh, man.” Mark ran his free hand through his hair. “I forgot all about that. Stacy and food still aren’t on good terms right now.” He laughed. Stacy had eaten a little more every day, but wasn’t having a full meal yet.  


“Email us the wedding details.”  


“We haven’t even thought about that yet.” He wanted to be married, but he didn’t want to have a wedding that was as big a circus as his brother had.  


Mark paused again. “Thank you. Seriously. Thank you.”  


“See you soon. Cabrillo out.”

\------------------------

“The Corporation owns this?” Stacy looked around, surprised. This was quite a luxurious townhouse in a rather pricey neighborhood.  


“Yeah.” Murph put down their bags and took Stacy into his arms. “I love you.”  


“I love you, too.” She kissed him. “I want to. I do. I just…”  


“I know. Go slow? See what happens?”  


“Yeah. Now?” She did desperately want to make love with him. Right now.  


“Yeah. Now.” He was grinning like a fool.  


Mark picked her up and held her close. He started for the stairs, his eyes intent on her.  


“Mark?”  


“Yeah?”  


“Please don’t carry me up the stairs.”  


Mark realized what he was doing and stopped. Even though Stacy was light, he was strong, and he’d carried her before, it wasn’t a good idea to carry a pregnant woman up a flight of stairs. As he put her down, they both started laughing. “I’m sorry, Stacy. I didn’t think about it.”  


She took his hand. “You have to lead. I don’t know where we’re going.”  


Mark took her hand and they walked up slowly. There was a bedroom at the top, and at the door, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. He laid her down carefully and knelt beside her. His voice was low and emotional. “What do you want me to do, Stacy?”  


She sat up. “I don’t want to lie back just yet. Sit with your back against the headboard.”  


He moved up on the bed and reached for her. “Sit on my lap.” She moved to sit there. “We’ll go slow. Okay?”  


She kissed him and started unbuttoning his shirt. He reciprocated, putting his hands under her t-shirt. “No bra, Stacy?” He smiled lustily.  


“The only ones I have are too small now.”  


“Yeah, these are bigger, aren’t they?” He palmed one and squeezed, the way he used to do, and she gasped, so he pulled his hand back.  


“They’re really sensitive, too.” She moved his hand back. “Just gently. Don’t pinch.”  


She didn’t know how long they sat together, kissing and touching. Their shirts were off and their breathing was heavy. “More, Mark.” 

She moved off his lap, still kissing him. He got off the bed and stood up, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. As his pants hit the floor, she was shucking her sweatpants and panties. She dropped them over the side of the bed.  


The Corporation's safe house showed Juan Cabrillo’s taste in furnishings. The king-sized bed was heavy, dark wood, made up with soft linen sheets. They felt lovely against her skin as she pulled the covers back and slid in, then sat with her back to the headboard. Mark joined her under the blankets, but he uncovered her. “I want to see you, Stace. Are you okay to lay back?” She shifted down.  


It had been four months since he’d seen her naked. Her body had changed with their pregnancy and he looked at her hungrily. He ran his hand lightly over her breasts and traced down her belly. There was a bump beneath her belly button and he caressed it lovingly. When he looked in her eyes, she saw wonder in his.  


Stacy pulled his head down to kiss him. He met her lips and deepened the kiss. Their hands caressed each other and their lips followed. His hand moved between her legs and stroked slowly. Her back arched and she gasped.  


Stacy’s breasts weren’t the only part of her that was more sensitive. As Mark continued to stroke, the rhythm they’d practiced so many times brought her up to the climax she needed. His kiss brought her back to Earth. “Still okay, Stace?”  


Her smile was as old as Eve. “Yeah.” She held his face in her hands and stroked his unshaven face. His beard was rough against her hands and sexy against her lips and her breasts. “More.”  


“Open for me, Sweetheart.” He trailed his lips down her belly, paying special attention to her bump. He moved between her legs and raised her hips. With his tongue, he had her gasping again. Her hands grabbed the sheet and she exploded.  


As she came down, Mark moved up her body and entered her slowly. Mark had spent some time on the phone with Julia, and the therapist Stacy saw had come to the hospital to see them together. Both doctors recommended having sex for the first time in a position that didn’t remind Stacy of the lounger. Mark had an idea and he was glad he’d been working out.  


He'd needed her, like he needed to breathe. She felt so good. His body missed her when they were apart. He had to stop before he came with the first stroke. He groaned, “Oh, Stacy!” Before she could react to Mark’s body on top of hers bringing up the memory of Juan Cabrillo, Mark held her tight and flipped over so she was on top.  


“God, Mark!” Stacy was impressed. “That’s…sexy.” She sounded breathless. Over the four years they’d been together, Mark’s body had changed. He didn’t have Juan’s six-pack, but he was close. She’d always thought he was sexy, but he had a smokin’ hot bod now.  


“Set the pace, Stacy.” She felt so good. He wanted to slam himself inside her, but even more, he wanted Stacy to be comfortable making love with him. He moved his fingers between her legs again.  


Stacy started grinding on him as his fingers teased her. It wasn’t long before he saw her throw her head back, then he felt her flutters as she came. He grabbed her hips and pushed into her with a shout. Stacy collapsed on his chest with her head on his shoulder.  


When Mark could think again, he asked, “How are you, Sweetheart?”  


Stacy tried to sit up, and Mark helped her. She looked down at him and smiled. “I’m okay. I love you.”  


“I love you, too.” He pulled her back down and kissed her, hugging her close. 

\----------------

“We gotta get married, Stace.” They were sitting at the kitchen table. Mark was wolfing down his sandwich; Stacy was nibbling at a cinnamon roll.  


“How soon can your family get here?” She smiled thinking of Mark’s parents. They were sweet people and she loved them as much as Mark did.  


“The Chairman said he’ll have Tiny fly them in as soon as we finalize the details.”  


“It’s Thursday. Tuesday?”  


“Tuesday. Where?”  


“There’s a community room in Dad and Helen’s building. Cake? Flowers? Photographer?”  


“Whatever you want. You need some clothes. I want to take you shopping. Do you have any maternity clothes?” Stacy was still wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. She shook her head ‘no.’ “Will they help us get this together? Art and Helen?”  


“I’m sure they will. Call the Chairman and tell him Tuesday.”  


“Liechtenstein?”  


“I think so. I need something to do.”  


“House or apartment? Do you have a preference?” Juan would get them whatever she wanted, he thought.  


“House? Big enough for the baby and a visitor or two. Your parents and my parents will want to come to see the baby.” She put down her fork and sat back. “What else?”  


“Nothing I can think of. Let’s go back to bed. Have some more of those good times.”


	26. Chapter 26

“How’s Stacy?” Juan asked Mark Murphy via FaceTime. Mark was on every monitor on the bridge and more people than usual were there to see him.  


“Stacy’s fine. She’s amazing, actually. I cannot believe what she did.” The smile on Mark’s face was ear to ear.  


“How long was she in labor?” Doc Huxley asked.  


“Three hours. Start to finish,” he bragged. “The doctor was really happy with how well everything went.” Fortunately, he’d been there a few days before the baby arrived.  


“Well?” Max asked.  


“Well, what, Max?” Mark asked with an even bigger grin.  


“You’re going to string us along, aren’t you?” Juan asked, laughing.  


“I’m just giving everyone time to find their slips,” Mark deadpanned. He knew there was a pool on the _Oregon_ for when the baby would be born, how big, and boy or girl. They hadn’t let him bet because they said he had ‘inside information.’  


“Okay, everyone. Here’s the scoop.” He turned around and took something into his arms. He moved the camera so everyone could see, “The baby was born at 7:09 pm Zurich local time December 11, about twelve hours ago. Eight pounds ten ounces and twenty-two inches long.” Mark held the baby where the camera could see all of him. “Meet my son: Callan Sean Murphy. Ten fingers and ten toes, and everything works.” He heard applause over the connection.  


“Tell them how you know that, Mark,” Stacy called softly in the background. “If you don’t, I will.” She laughed a little.  


“Yeah, yeah,” Mark said to her with a smile, then turned back to the camera. “Callan came out screaming, which was good, so the doctor put him on Stacy’s tummy, and when the nurse was ready, I picked him up to go to weigh and measure him, and he peed on me. Damn, that nurse laughed.” Then he did, too. “Who won?”  


Hali Kasim brought up the baby pool diagram on his terminal and sent it to all the monitors on the bridge. “Winner of the date is…Eddie Seng!” Eddie stood and took the applause. “Time of day is…Raven Malloy!” Raven looked stunned. “The winner of the height is… Doc Huxley!” She pumped her fist for ‘yes!’ and there were boos and catcalls of ‘Cheater!’ Winner of weight is...Gomez Adams. " Hali continued, “Eddie and Julia get a prize for correctly guessing ‘boy.’ There is another winner. This crew member came closest to guessing date, time, height, weight, and 'boy:' MacD! You may collect your money from Maurice later today.” The steward nodded in assent.  


“He’s beautiful, Mark. And he looks just like you.” Linda Ross said. The baby had a shock of dark hair, with eyes and mouth the same shape as Mark’s. “Congratulations, Stacy! We’ll see you in a few weeks.” There was a final round of congratulations, and the _Oregon_ signed off.  


Mark turned back to Stacy and handed her their son, who had started making fussing noises. “I think he’s hungry again,” Mark whispered.  


Stacy bared her breast and took Callan from his father. “He’s probably still going to be, but we’ll get some practice.”  


Mark watched for a minute and then grabbed his phone. He focused the camera carefully at Stacy looking down at the baby on her breast and then snapped.  


Stacy heard the camera snap and looked up. “You did not just take a picture of me looking like this, did you?” Messy hair, no makeup, hospital gown.  


Mark leaned over the baby and kissed Stacy gently. “I did. You are so beautiful. This picture is for me, so I will always remember how much you love me.” He kissed her again. “Thank you for our son. You are going to be an amazing mother.”  


“You are going to be an amazing father.” She kissed him back. Mark sat on the bed and watched them. He loved Stacy so much, and he was stunned by how much love he had for his son. He touched the baby's back as he nursed. He was in awe thinking about the fact that together, they'd made a person.  


And he was excited about teaching his son, watching him grow up. “I get to teach the grommet how to flip and airwalk and…” Stacy was laughing at him.  


“Maybe he should learn to walk first, Mark? Then skateboard?”  


“I could teach you, too.” He kissed her. “Of course, there’s other things we can do. In a few weeks.”  


She kissed him back. “We always have a good time.”


End file.
